


Spider-Pancakes

by CodyIsMyBoi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, At least attempted angst, Captain America disapproves of my existence, Drama, GUYS, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I say secret identity but i actually mean they find out pretty quickly, I will ruin Marvel for you with my ignorance and terrible writing, I wont be adding more tags, I'll also add tags as I go plz dont hate, I'm Sorry, Other, Peter is 15, Secret Identity, but not enough in my opinion, guys guys guys, im sorry, just not too eventually, just saying, nvm that didnt make sense, oh yeah Venom will show up eventually, so if you want to know what happens come join me on this awesome adventure yeet, some language, take it easy on me this is my first posted work and tagging, this isn't cliff notes this is the tag section
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-07-02 10:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 41,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15794874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodyIsMyBoi/pseuds/CodyIsMyBoi
Summary: Peter Parker, aka Spiderman, goes up against Doctor Octavius one beautiful day in New York city, but Octavius gains the high ground-literally-flattening Peter into what he now calls a 'Spider-Pancake'. Law enforcement drives away the villain, but Peter is severely injured.Enter inexperienced cops and who else but the Avengers?Sorry I'm really bad at this :P





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, Y'all! Welcome to my first ever Fanfiction!!!!! yay... so, first off, I'm guessing the chapters will be shortish, since school and homework and life, and I will try to update every week or two unless my brain stops working or I run out of ideas or I just don't have time. Also, I apologize in advance for wasting your time with this fic, cuz I'm not sure if I can finish it. I certainly will try, but I have trouble with endings. any help would be appreciated! Oh, yeah. Comment are always welcome, whether it's to make me feel good about my self, "Hey, this isn't trash! wow!" or if you just wanna talk trash, "Hey, this is trash, please stop infecting my brain with your terrible writing." Anyways, thanks for being here, and I hope you enjoy!

Gunshots bounced off nearby buildings as Doctor Octavius tried to injure the man in the red and blue spandex suit. 

“Watch where you point that thing!” Spider-Man quipped, twisting mid-air to dodge the bullets. “You could’ve shot me!” 

This earned him an angry low growl as the super-villain lunged at him. Spidey jumped over his head and flailing robotic limbs, landing on his back and immediately punched him. He backflipped off as the man stumbled forwards, catching himself with his his metallic arms. 

The villain spoke without facing Spider-Man. “Give up now, Spider-Man, and I might let you live.” He turned to the young hero who stood panting a few meters away. 

The arachnid crossed his arms. “Look, man. As fun as that sounds, I've got five bucks in my pocket and a hot dog not too far from here with my name on it. I will not leave this life with and empty stomach.” Said stomach growled in agreement. 

Doc. Oct smiled sickly. “Alright,” He said, taking a few slow steps back. “I'm sure someone else will be joyed to take your place then.” He turned towards the crowd of onlookers and cops, sprinting to the nearest. 

Spider-Man’s lenses widened as he realized what was happening, and he jumped forwards, sprinting to catch up with the villain. 

Doc. Oct smirked as one of his metallic arms reached down to snatch his victim, a young police officer trying to scramble to safety. 

Bullets from law enforcement ricochet off of his metallic arms and the young man cried out as the arm almost touched him.

A red and blue blur jumped in front of him, the grey claws wrapping around Spider-Man’s torso. He let out a high pitched whine as they squeezed, black dots dancing in his vision and a pounding in his head. 

He weakly turned to look at the police officer, who stood frozen behind him. “Where’re the Aveng’rs when ya need ‘em, am I right?” 

He was suddenly pulled up into the sky, then slammed into the pavement, creating a Spidey-shaped crater. 

He wheezed when the claws retracted. “Man, that's gonna hurt tomorrow.” He mumbled, trying to get air into his lungs. 

Doc. Oct stalked towards him, his back turned away from the crowd. Spider-Man weakly raised a hand from his lying position. “T-time out. Give me a minute, alright? Be r-right with ya.” 

The villain ignored him as he stepped on the hero with one of his arms, or legs, Spidey couldn't decide which, and pressed down. Hard. 

New York was oddly quiet as their hero was pressed into the concrete, his ribs cracking, and a loud broken cry escaping him. 

Doc. Oct sneered at the fallen man, leaning over him, way too close for Peter’s comfort. “I quite like you like this, Spider-Man.” He spit out the name in disgust. 

Peter only coughed in response, a metallic taste entering his mouth as he writhed and kicked weakly at the giant weight, his hands clawing randomly at the metal holding him down. 

“All bloodied, broken, a squirming mess.” He emphasised by pushing harder, deepening the crater. 

“Stop!” Spidey’s voice cracked as the word involuntarily slipped out. The crowd behind them flinched at the broken cry, but Doctor Octavius’ smile only grew. 

“Didn't take long for you to start begging, now did it?” Spider-Man coughed again, the blood pooling in his mouth, choking him. 

His lungs couldn't expand, most of his ribs were broken, and his mind became fuzzy, his vision blurring at the edges. The pain in his whole body pulsed to his heartbeat, pounding in his head. He felt himself losing consciousness at the evil grin began to fade into darkness.

They stayed like that, staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly, a loud ‘BANG’ sounded, and the villain jumped, crying out in pain. 

The pressure lifted off his chest as Doc. Oct stepped back. 

He looked at the red spot blooming on his shoulder, then at the police officer with his handgun still raised, the same one Spider-Man saved. 

He sneered and turned, using his metal arms to run away. 

The crowd seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief until all eyes fell on their hero, still lying on the ground. 

The claws were gone, Peter knew that. 

So why couldn't he breathe? 

Unconsciousness seeped closer, and he could vaguely see the same young officer from before hovering over him. 

Peter had to breathe, he had to, but his body wouldn't let him. 

The cop’s hands prodded at his chest, and he curled in on himself in pain, wrapping his arms around his chest protectively. “Hey, hey, Spidey, look at me, you need help, can you hear me? You need help.”

The voice above him said, but it went in one ear and straight out the other. 

The cop look up at the silent crowd. “I need a doctor!” He shouted. 

For a few moments, he got no response. Then, a middle aged man stepped out of the crowd and ran to his side. 

“I'm a doctor.” He said as he turned Spider-Man onto his back. 

The man tried to pry his arms away from his body, but white hot pain shot throughout his body, and Peter lashed his arm out, hitting the man across the chest. 

The Doctor fell onto his back and groaned, and that sound seemed to ground Peter for a second. 

He opened his eyes to see the doctor getting back up, rubbing his chest. He had hit the man, he realized in horror. 

“Oh my god, oh my god i'm so sorry, i- oh my god i hit you i'm so sorry i'm sorry-” His pulse quickened dramatically and his rambling was cut short by a sob ripping from his throat. 

“Shhh, I'm alright son, i'm ok. I need you to breathe, ok? Breathe with me now. In… and out. In… and out.” 

Peter uncurled himself and laid on his back, his body shaking with gasps and sobs.  
What was happening to him? Maybe his insomnia and anxiety, plus his current exhaustion, were catching up to him. 

He took deep shaky breaths in time with the doctor, his heart rate slowing gradually. 

The doctor nodded in approval. “Good, good.” He looked up at the young cop. “Has anyone called an ambulance? We can't move him without risking further injuries.” 

The man nodded. “The entire fight was on live tv, a lot of people called. The ambulance should be here any minute now.” 

He looked up at the large screens mounted on the buildings, all showing them trying to help their hero. 

He looked back down at the doctor. “Maybe we should get them out of here?” 

The doctor shook his head. “It would cause too much commotion. No time.” 

Peter must have closed his eyes, the lenses on his mask following, because something smacked him hard across his face. 

His eyes snapped open and he gasped in surprise, seeing the doctor’s blurry face hovering over him. “Hey, no sleeping. You need to stay awake, you hear me? You n-” 

A flash of pain shot from his chest and he cried out, balling his fists and slamming his head into the concrete. The pain in the back of his head seemed to keep him from floating away, so he repeated the action. 

He was about to do it again when a hand pushed his forehead to the ground. Strong, but gentle. “Spider-Man, stop!” 

The doctor stood after a moment and faced the police officer. “I need my emergency kit from my car. Keep him still and keep him from sleeping until I get back.” 

The cop nodded, and the doctor sprinted away into the crowd. Peter whimpered loudly, digging the heels of his boots into the edges of the crater. 

The cop kneeled beside him, and began talking to himself. “Ok, ok. So we’re gonna wait for the Doctor to come back, keep him still, keep him awake. Oh man, is that blood? There’s blood coming from your face.” 

He swiped a finger on the chin of Peter’s mask, making the vigilante flinch away. He didn't like anyone touching his mask. Especially the law. 

“The ambulance will be here soon, they’re gonna wanna take a look at that. But for that they need to see your face. Oh my god, they’re going to unmask you.” The young man gasped in realization. 

Peter’s eyes widened at his words. They can't take off his mask. They can't know who he is. He has people to protect. Gwen. Aunt May. 

He groaned, trying to push himself up and scramble away, but he was unable to. “Shoot, don't do that.” The cop’s hands pressed down on his shoulders. 

“N-ng,” He weakly struggled under the pressure. “M-sk.” 

The officer shook his head. “I can't understand you. Stop moving.” 

Fear ran through his veins as he pushed himself up to his elbows. He made it halfway up before collapsing back down, jostling his injuries. 

Crying out in pain, he curled onto his side. 

He had to get up. He had to get away before they took off his mask. 

He took a steadying breath, then another one, before rolling on his stomach and pushing himself up. 

The pain almost made him lose consciousness as he screamed, stumbling a few steps. 

The young officer stood there gaping, then rushed to his side, trying to push him back down.  
“Spidey, Lay down! You’re hurting yourself!” Some people shouted the same thing from the crowd, but Peter couldn't hear them. 

He had to get away. 

He half jogged, half dragged himself to the nearest building on his violently shaking legs.  
Though he was injured, he was still faster than the average human. 

He ran to the glass door and threw his body weight into it, shattering the glass. He fell to the floor with a cry, but immediately scrambled back up. 

The crowd behind him began to shout and rush forwards, barely being held back by the line of law enforcement. 

He ignored the shouts from the young cop, who was sprinting towards him, and he ran across the floor. 

He slammed into the wall by the elevator and punched the up arrow. 

After an antagonizing second, the doors slid open and he threw himself inside. He hit the button for the top floor weakly over and over again. 

Glancing out, he saw the cop and the doctor, who had returned just a second before and was holding a suitcase, rushing towards him. 

He felt panic rise and let out a sob as the doors slid closed way too slowly. 

There was barely six inches open when the doctor’s hands reached the door, taking both and prying them apart. 

Peter fell to the floor and scrambled to the farthest corner, gasping and whimpering as tears soaked his mask. 

The doors opened and slid closed as the doctor and cop stepped inside. They both stared at him from the other side of the elevator, the only sound being Peter’s frantic sobs and gasps. 

The doctor then kneeled slowly, holding out his hands in a nonthreatening manner.

“Hey,” He started with a smooth and gentle voice. “It's alright, we’re not going to hurt you. We’re trying to help. You need to let us help.” 

He turned to his suitcase and opened it. After a few seconds, he pulled out a syringe filled with a clear liquid. He faced Peter again. 

“This won't hurt, ok? It's just going to ease your pain.” He took a cautious step forwards, but Peter couldn't stop himself from tensing and letting out a small whimper. 

This didn't faze the doctor though, as he kneeled back down beside him. Peter squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the needle enter his arm. 

A second later it was out, and he could already feel it taking effect. The pains in his body become dull throbbings and he let out a sigh. 

“There. Feel better?” Peter opened his eyes and nodded hesitantly. 

“Th-thanks.” He rasped out, just now realizing how thirsty he was. The doctor must have read his mind, because he went back to his suitcase and took out a bottle of water. 

He offered it to the hero, who took it with shaky hands. He placed it between his legs, which were now spread out in front of him, and slowly pulled his mask up and over his mouth to rest on the bridge of his nose. 

He twisted the cap off and took a few sips before setting it down again. He looked up at the two men to thank them, but shut his mouth when he saw their wide-eyed expressions. 

“W-what?” He asked, panic settling back in. 

The officer’s jaw set and he took a threatening step forwards, hand outstretched to Peter’s head, but the doctor grabbed his arm and yanked him back. 

Peter’ eyes widened in realization and he scrambled to pull his mask back down. 

The cop looked angry almost, if it wasn't for the sadness and disbelief in his eyes. The doctor just looked sad. 

“Son,” He sighed and shook his head. “How old are you?” Peter’s breaths came out faster.  
“Don't have to tell you,” He snapped, curling in on himself. 

The rest of the ride up was awkward and filled with tension as the doctor and the cop stared at Peter, who fidgeted with the bottle cap. 

They reached the top and the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open. 

The officer held the doors open as the doctor helped Peter stand and walk onto the roof. They set him down against a wooden crate, kneeling beside him. 

The doctor took out his phone and dialed a number. “W-who’re you callin’?” Peter asked, his words slurring a bit as he felt the world begin to fade again, this time from exhaustion. 

The doctor brought the phone up to his ear and ignored the question. “Hello? Yes, it's me Tony. I told you don't call me that. I know but- will you shut up and listen to me? Thank you. Are you watching the news? Well, he's here with me at the top of a building. I know that was stupid, you can tell him that yourself. We need medical attention and the Tower is the safest place right now. What? Tony, i'm not picking up strays again, stop saying that. You need to get here ASAP. Yep, See ya in a few.” 

He hung up and pocketed the phone. Peter and the cop gave him confused looks and he sighed, shaking his head. 

“Just… don't freak out when he gets here. Please?” 

He was answered with silence and he sighed again, sitting against the crate beside Peter.  
Peter felt like he was spinning, and his head lolled to the side, embarrassingly landing on the doctor’s shoulder. 

He jerked it away quickly, earning a chuckle from the doctor. “Try to stay awake, please.”  
He dug his fingers into his side, the pain grounding him, but his hand was immediately pulled away. 

“Aaaand that is not how we stay awake.” The doctor said, still holding Peter’s hand. 

Peter looked down at their hands and pointed with his other. “That's v’ry weird, ya know,” He slurred, and the doctor let go. 

He couldn't help but feel disappointed at the loss. 

He sighed and slumped further down. The cop was pacing a few feet away, deep in thought.  
He looked at the doctor, who was searching the horizon for something. Weird. 

He clumsily poked the doctors chest, and the man turned to look at him.

“I like ya.” He said. “‘n you look famili’r. Do I know you?” 

The doctor looked surprised for a second. “My name’s Bruce Banner if that helps.” He answered, and Peter’s eyes widened. 

“Ooooohhhhhh! Y-you wrote th-that… that… um… i can't rememb’r. I rememb’r likin’ it though.” Bruce snorted at that, and Peter continued. 

“Anyhoo, thanks for savin’ me back there. I almos’ became Spid’r-Pancake.” 

Banner shook his head, smiling. “Do you always talk this much, Spidey?” 

Peter nodded vigorously, but stopped, a wave of vertigo washing over him. 

Banner laughed again. Once the nausea stopped, Peter spoke again, much to the doctors amusement. 

“I c’n almost see t’morrowz headlines: Bruce Banter saves Pe-” 

He froze suddenly, letting out a small ‘oops’ and a giggle.

Banners brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” He asked. 

Peter swayed suddenly, landing once again on the man's shoulder, but making no move to get off. 

“I alm’st told ya my name.” 

He looked into Banners eyes, dead serious.

“‘n you c’n’t know my name.” 

“Why not?” Banner asked, now curious. Peter began to tap his foot as he answered. 

“Oh, ‘cuz I got fam’ly. A big ‘ne. We take up alotta space, all two of us. Gotta prot’ct.”  
He mumbled the last part, his eyes feeling heavy. 

“One of your parents is dead?” Banner asked, mentally slapping himself for his bluntness. 

Peter shook his head, yawning wide. “Ooohh, who needs par’nts? I got May. oh, but Gwen has par’nts. I met ‘em once.” 

Peter had his full weight on Banner’s shoulder, but slid down his chest onto his lap. 

“Oops, s’rry.” He apologized as he tried to push himself up, but finding he was unable to. 

“Welp, this is embarassin’.” He sighed as he dropped back down onto his lap. 

Bruce chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing in small circles. 

“Who’s Gwen?” He asked, feeling a strange fondness for the young vigilante. 

Peter let out a dreamy sigh. “Gwen’s my girlfriend. My angel. Luv of my life.” 

Banner smiled. “Where’s she from?” He asked. 

Peter yawned again and subconsciously snuggled further into the man’s lap.  
“Heav’n.” He mumbled, finally closing his eyes. 

“Spidey?” Bruce shook the shoulder his hand was on, and Peter groaned. “Come on Spider-Man, you gotta stay awake for me.” 

Peter let out a high pitch whine and shook his head weakly. 

Banner stood and pulled Peter up with him, supporting most of his weight, which is to say, not much, Bruce noticed. 

“Come on, walk around a bit. Hey,” He called over the cop, who was watching the two from a distance. “Gimme the water bottle, please.” 

The officer grabbed it from the ground and passed it to him. 

Bruce opened it and poured it on Peter’s head, who gasped and spluttered awake. 

A loud thruster sound made the three on the roof turn their heads. 

A red and gold suit landed on the edge of the roof. 

Peter’s breath hitched, his eyes wide as all the pieces snapped into place. 

Bruce Banner called Tony. 

Bruce Banner the Avenger called Tony Stark. 

Bruce Banner the Avenger called Tony-Freaking-Stark. 

The man walked forwards, his faceplate sliding away. 

“Found another one, haven't you Brucie.” 

Banner sighed and readjusted his grip around Peter, accidentally brushing his side and making him whimper and jerk. “Sorry, sorry.” 

He turned back towards Iron Man and glared. 

“He’s a human, Tony, not a dog. Now I asked you to take him to the Tower, not chit-chat. He’s probably internally bleeding as we speak.” 

Stark shrugged and stepped forwards, robotic hands outstretched. “Hand him over then.” 

Banner took a step forwards, but was jerked back when Peter stood stuck in place. “What the-” 

He tried pulling him again, but the kid used his powers to stick to the ground. 

He shook his head and took a step back. “I'm- i'm not goin’.” 

Banner sighed and gave him a stern look. 

“Yes, you are. For all we know you could be dying on your feet, and we’re wasting time.” 

He pushed Peter forwards, and he stumbled into Iron Man’s chest, being immediately wrapped in his metal arms.  
Panic bubbled in his chest as he jerked backward, trying to step out of the hold. The suit didn't budge an inch. 

He continued to struggle as Stark’s faceplate slipped back into place, the eyes glowing. “I'll get the bugger to the Tower, Banner, don't worry.” 

Peter growled and pushed the suit with all his strength, sending them both backwards. 

Right over the edge of the roof. 

The arms let go of him in favor of flying, and Peter freefell. 

He shot a web towards the edge of the building, but in his dierious state, he missed entirely. 

‘This is it,’ He thought to himself as he fell, almost in slow motion. ‘I die as Spider-Pancake.’ 

Suddenly, he was hit in the side by a giant metal blur and caught mid-air. The impact made him cry out in pain, and the arms wrapped around him again. 

This time, he was too weak to fight back, his vision quickly fading into nothing. 

The last thing he heard was Iron Man’s robotic voice. “You’re even crazier in person, Webs. Shorter, too.”


	2. Why, Aunt May? Why?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avengers Find out who Peter is! Yay...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How am I doing? Please tell me cuz I'm feeling neglected. *snifff*

When Peter awoke, it was to a deep scorching pain in his chest that brought tears to his eyes. 

A rhythmic beeping in the background started speeding up dramatically as he balled his fists.   
He vaguely heard a door slamming open as he rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around himself. 

“-have to hold him down! Steve, get-” 

The voices faded in and out through the sound of blood rushing in his ears. 

Everything was too much right now. 

The lights were too bright. 

The beeping and the voices were too loud. 

The pain was too much. 

Strong hands grabbed his arms, prying them to his sides and holding them against the mattress, no matter how hard he fought. 

He kicked out, and his legs were held down too. 

He squirmed, trying to pull away from the hands, but they held strong. 

His eyes snapped open, taking in the three men holding his limbs down, and the one in the background approaching him with a syringe. 

His heart rate spiked as his eyes widened.

“No, no don't,” He protested, pulling harder, but the hands wouldn't budge. 

“Easy, Spidey. This is gonna help, ok? Calm down.”

“Stay away from me!” He hissed, trying to sink further into the mattress. 

The man looked almost apologetic as his arm was held up, and the needle entered his arm. 

A second passed before he felt himself weakening, the pain fading and his body going slack. His consciousness stayed, though. 

What did they do to him?

“Spidey, can you hear me?” A voice asked. He rolled his head weakly to the side, and was met with the familiar face of Bruce Banner. 

He blinked once, then twice, and looked past the man to see two new faces looking down at him. 

“Ok. That, was adorable. I mean look at those huge eyes,” The man on the left of the doctor whined, then he fake gasped. 

“I bet there’s a literal puppy under that mask.” 

Peter’s heart skipped a beat, and it was echoed by the heart monitors beeping, which started speeding up a bit. 

Banner glared at the man and set a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder. “No one is touching his mask.” 

The man just sighed and shook his head. 

Peter lifted himself onto his elbows and tried to push himself up, and a huge hand was placed on his back and helped him reach a sitting position. 

He looked up and was met with probably the burliest, most muscular, and scariest man Peter had ever seen. 

His eyes widened and he scrambled away, falling off the opposite side of the bed with a grunt.   
Banner and the huge man rushed to his aid, but he quickly stood and held his hands up, motioning for them to stop. 

“No no no, I'm ok.” He squeaked, gritting his teeth against the blooming pain in his chest.   
The doctor approached him cautiously anyways. 

“You should get back in bed, Spider-Man.” 

Peter’s head tilted to the side as he looked back to the huge man, then he shook it. “I think I'll stay here for a bit. Good exercise, ya know?” 

Banner looked at him, then at the man, and nodded. 

“I guess I should introduce you.” He walked to the huge man’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Spider-Man, this is Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America.” 

If possible, the lenses on Peter’s mask widened even more, and Steve let out a low chuckle. 

Banner then waved a hand towards the other man, who was still staring at him wide-eyed. “And the one who wants to adopt you is Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye.” 

The three men waited for a reaction, but Peter stood frozen and non-blinking. 

They shared a confused look, and that's when Peter’s body decided to move. 

He instantly regretted it when he reached the door. 

He looked for the door handle and sighed, realizing there was none. 

Arms wrapped around him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides, and picked him up as if he weighed nothing. Which he probably did considering how little he ate. 

He kicked and squirmed as he was carried to the bed, where he was dropped roughly. 

Steve, who had been the one to carry him, leaned in and sprawled himself over Peter, trying to keep him still. 

“Bruce! Tie him down-ugh!” Peter got in a well placed kick in Captain America’s gut, and rolled off the bed, immediately jumping up onto the wall and climbing up until his head touched the unusually high ceiling.

“Oh my god, did you see that?!” Clint jumped up and down like an overexcited child, pointing at Peter. 

Steve was still doubled over, arms around his stomach. “I'm sure we did, Barton.” He ground out. 

“I'm sorry.” Peter squeaked from his perch. Steve straightened and glared at him, walking up to the wall and jumping to try to grab Peter’s foot. 

He got pretty close, which made Peter curl in on himself even more. 

Banner walked up to them and studied him. “How do you do that? Something in your gloves?” 

Peter hesitated, then shook his head. “N-no, that's me. Heh.” 

Steve stopped trying to reach him and sighed. “I'm getting Tony. He can get him down.” 

Just then, a British sounding voice boomed from nowhere, almost making Peter lose his grip. 

“Boss has already been informed of the situation and is on his way.” 

Everyone nodded but Peter, who started freaking out. “Who the hell was that?” 

“Language,” Steve reprimanded him immediately. “That was JARVIS, Tony’s AI.” 

Peter’s inner geek threatened to explode. He was about to ask about it, but the door slid open, revealing Tony Stark himself. 

He looked around the room at each person, then his gaze slowly rose to where Peter was. 

He silently stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged. “I've seen weirder things.” 

And he fully entered the room.

“So tell me,” He asked no one in particular. “Why is there a bug on the ceiling?” 

Peter answered, his voice distrustful. “It’s your fault for kidnapping me. And spiders aren't bugs.” 

Stark studied him for a moment, taking in the ripped up and bloodied suit. 

“Maybe you should stay down for a while. That looks like a lot of blood.” 

Peter looked down at himself then shook his head. “I'm already almost healed. Anyways, I have to get home. My... Someone’s waiting for me.” 

Clint snorted from the other side of the room. “They’ve waited this long, man. I'm sure they can wait a bit longer.” 

Peter’s heart began to speed up. “Wha- Wait. H-how long have I been here?” 

They all shared a look, but Steve was the one to speak up. 

“You’ve been out for nine days. It's Wednesday.” Peter’s brain seemed to come to an abrupt stop.  
“ ...You’re joking...You messin’ with me....” He frantically searched each of their faces, but none of them were laughing. 

“...oh man…” 

He grabbed his head with both hands, being held on the wall by his feet and back only, and dug his palms into his eyes, all the while muttering ‘stupidstupidstupid’. 

“Hey. Calm down.” Banner tried to reach him, and everyone flinched when he slammed the back of his head into the wall, leaving a dent. 

No one knew what to do until he suddenly dropped his hands to the wall again and made eye contact with Stark. 

“I need to use your phone.” 

The man looked at the others, who were waiting for his reaction, and he shrugged, taking his phone from his pocket and holding it out, but not moving closer. 

He jumped when Peter landed right in front of him and snatched the phone with shaky hands, immediately dialing his aunt’s number. 

It rang once, then twice. 

Finally, on the third, a worried and tired voice answered warily. “Hello?” 

Peter glanced at the men in the room, who were all watching him intently. 

He turned his back to them as if it would give him a bit of privacy. 

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was about to happen. 

“Aunt May, I can explain.” He rushed out, mentally slapping himself for his shaky voice. 

There was a long pause, then the bomb went off. 

“PETER BENJAMIN PARKER-” 

The phone might as well have been on speakerphone, Peter bet everyone in the room heard.   
He accidently dropped it, surprised at the sudden outburst, but the screams continued, And he could hear every word loud and clear. 

“-WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?! ARE YOU OK? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!? I'VE BEEN WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU, YOUNG MAN! I SWEAR, IF YOU WEREN'T KIDNAPPED YOU ARE GROUNDED FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAMN LIFE, YOU HEAR ME?!” 

He took that pause as his cue, and picked up the phone. “I told you I can explain-” 

“IT BETTER BE A DAMN GOOD REASON!” 

He opened his mouth to answer, but froze. How could he make up a lie about this? 

“Um… w-well…” 

He gulped, and he heard a few snickers behind his back. Suddenly, the phone was snatched from his hand, and he jumped, whipping around to see Stark put the phone up to his ear with a  
smirk on his face. 

“Hello?” He said. Barely a second passed.

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!? WHERE IS MY NEPHEW?! I SWEAR, IF YOU HURT HIM I WILL-” 

“-Peter-” 

He gave Peter a pointed look and his smirk grew, making the boy shrink in on himself. 

“-is fine, there’s no need to worry. This is Tony Stark, we’re both here at Stark Tower.” 

A few beats of silence. “Yes, and I apologize. He lost his phone somewhere and we’ve been really busy the past few days. Working on a new project of mine. You could say I've taken him as my apprentice.” 

Aunt May said something, and Stark laughed. “Yes, yes, I know.” 

He gave Peter a conspiratorial glance. 

“If you don't mind, I’d like to meet you tomorrow when I drop Peter off. ...Mhm, he’s said a lot about you.” 

Peter gaped, then shook his head feverishly, moving his hands the same way. 

Tony smiled. 

“Wonderful! See you then.” A pause, then he hung up, the smile still on his face. 

Peter groaned loudly, hanging his head and arms. 

“Well then,” Tony glanced at everyone in the room. “I think we all heard, but in case you missed it: Avengers, meet Peter Benjamin Parker, Nephew of the attractive sounding May Parker.” 

A pair of hands appeared on his shoulders and led him to the bed, where he sat down heavily, his head still lowered. 

Banner kneeled in front of him and reached up, but froze half way. 

A heavy hand patted his shoulder. 

“Well, kiddo. Peter. Spiderling. Whatever you want to be called, start talkin’. We’re all curious as to who this mysterious ‘Peter Benjamin Parker’ is.” 

Peter sighed and hesitated. They would just look it up if he didn't tell them, so what was the point of hiding anymore? 

He reached up and grabbed the top of his mask, pulling it off, but kept his head bowed. 

He could almost feel the surprise and disbelief in the air, and he wasn't wrong when he peeked out from under his bangs. 

Except for Steve Rogers, who had a scarily blank and measured expression. 

“Peter Parker is a nobody. There's nothing you need to know about me that's so important.” He murmured, keeping his eyes trained on the ground as he waited for a response. 

Clint was the first to break from his trance. “Kid, how old are you?” 

He quickly glanced at the man, immediately dropping his gaze. 

“Almost sixteen,” He whispered, and it seemed as if everyone tensed at his words. 

Peter shifted uncomfortably as all eyes seemed to bore into his skull. Thankfully, Banner stepped in before anyone could say anything. 

“You must be starving, seeing as how you haven't eaten solid food in almost a week.” 

His stomach rumbled loudly in response, and he grinned shyly. “That an answer for ya?” 

Bruce laughed, though it seemed strained, and turned to leave the room. 

“I'll get some leftovers from last night. Steve?” The man looked up from scrutinizing Peter, for which he was very thankful for. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

Steve spared Peter one last glance before leaving with Bruce, leaving him alone with Stark and Barton. 

Peter brought his legs up to his chest, leaning backwards a bit on the soft mattress. He put his head in his hands, his fingers tangled in his hair. 

“So…” Stark tried awkwardly, sending a silent ‘help’ towards Clint, who shook his head. He looked back to Peter, who was watching him from under his bangs, which he had to admit, was pretty adorable. 

He cleared his throat and continued. “You live with your aunt, huh?” Peter straightened a bit and nodded, getting a bit defensive, but in true Stark style, Tony didn't notice. 

“Where are your mom and dad? Business trip?” Peter couldn't hold back a snort, and he smirked up at the man. 

“My parents are dead. Plane crashed during a… business trip.” 

Clint and Tony cringed, avoiding eye contact. 

There was a long pause before Tony spoke again. “So they died in an accident-” 

“I never said that.” Peter blurted out before he could stop himself. 

Tony raised an eyebrow, but was interrupted by the door opening and Bruce peeking his head in. 

“There’s pizza in the kitchen. Everyone’s there.” He looked at Peter. “They all want to meet you.” 

He almost sounded apologetic, and Peter sighed. 

He let himself be dragged out of the room by Tony and down what seemed like an endless hallway. 

A door slid open near the end, and Peter was pushed in. 

He stumbled, tripping over his feet before noticing the people staring at him.

He stood there, gaping at everyone, until a hand fell roughly on his head. 

“Avengers, meet Spider-Man! Peter, meet the Avengers!” He motioned to the occupants of the room, who were wearing wide-eyed expressions. 

He would have laughed at them if he wasn't so damned terrified. 

The hand ruffled his hair before leaving, and Tony stepped into the room, seemingly unfazed by the tension. 

The man grabbed a bottle from the counter and poured himself a drink, downing it in one go, then pouring another one. 

Maybe he wasn't as unaffected as he let on.

Peter looked around the room, identifying each person. 

Sitting on the couch in front of the TV was a redhead woman, which he knew as the Black Widow. 

On the other side of the couch sat a huge blond whose muscles rivaled Captain America’s. He recognized him as Thor, the god of thunder. The god whose mouth was hanging open at the sight that was beat-up Peter. 

Steve was standing by the giant window, staring out at the city, avoiding eye contact with him.   
Clint stepped around him to enter the room and walked directly to the fridge. 

Banner pushed Peter inside, driving him by his shoulders, and sat him down on the couch in between Black Widow and Thor. 

“Now stay here,” He said, letting go of Peter’s shoulders. “I’ll get you some food.” And with that, he left the boy to go to the kitchen part of the room. 

Peter shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gazes, and jumped when Black Widow spoke up.

“So, you’re Spider-Man?” She asked, though it came out more as a statement. 

He glanced at her and nodded, taking in her guarded expression and cold eyes. 

She looked him up and down, her eyes pausing at the bandages wrapped around his chest. 

“But you’re young. Were you born like this?” Peter was surprised with her bluntness, but decided that he liked that about her. 

“No, I got my powers when I was fourteen.”

She looked like she was about to ask more, but Bruce came back with a box of pizza in his hand and sat beside Peter, opening the box and offering a piece, which Peter took with a quiet ‘thank you’.

He nibbled at the edges as he watched the Avengers gobble down their slices. 

Tony sat on one of the chairs that sat to the side and turned on the TV, changing the channel to the news. 

Peter’s eyes widened as he watched the headlines roll and the reporter speak. 

“-appears there are still people inside. The fire has been contained from the sides, but firefighters are unable to put it out. Survivors are being sent to Mercy Hospital immediately to undergo treatment-” 

He blocked out the rest of the report as he stood abruptly, dropping hid pizza slice back into the box and making to leave the room. 

Steve finally acknowledged him and grabbed his arm before he could get to the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Peter yanked his arm away and glared at him. “You know they need my help, and you can't stop me. Nothing has changed since you found out who I am. I'm still Spider-Man, and you have no control over what I do, so leave me alone.”

He speedwalked to the door, but jumped back when it immediately slid closed, locking him in the room. 

He clenched his fists and turned around. “You can't do this.” He ground out, and Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Just did, kiddo. Anyways, you’re still injured. You need time.”

Peter growled and took a threatening step forwards, which surprised the whole room.

“People are dying right now. How can you be so calm? You need to let me go right fucking now.” He spat, growing more desperate by the second.

Tony seemed to take this as a challenge, as he turned his body to face the kid and opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Steve, who was still by the door.

“I can go.”

All heads turned to face him, eyes wide. 

“Peter, you’re too injured to fight right now. But you’re also right. These people need help. So I’ll go.” 

The occupants of the room seemed to ponder this for a moment before hesitantly nodding. Peter sent him a grateful smile, and he smiled back. 

The door slid open and he stepped out into the hallway.

“Be careful, Steve.” Clint called out, and Steve nodded at him, still smiling.

“Always am.” and with that, the door slid closed, leaving Peter alone with the rest of the Avengers.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, please!  
> Edit: Thanks to Smiley101 for their advice! Sorry to the people who are confused, but I changed the format a bit so now it's easier to read! Other than that, nothing has changed. Thanks a lot for reading!


	3. Someone Should Probably Do Something About That Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter spends time with the Avengers! Is that a good thing? Who knows, not me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! first off, I wanted to start with I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO WRITE THIS I HAVE NO EXCUSE!  
> Life has just been cray-cray, ya know? this is my first year of high school, so I'm trying to get all that worked out and trying not to fail Honors Bio and Honors History. they give literally SO MUCH HOMEWORK (or maybe its just me who waits till midnight or right before school to do it I dunno that may be the problem). then Homecoming is coming up, to which I have been asked to by three people when all I wanna do is stay home and watch Marvel movies in bed. once again, I'm really sorry about the wait. I hope to set up a schedule soon but ya need to give me some time. I'm new at this whole ...responsibility... thing. Anyhoo, thanks for putting up with me and I hope you enjoy!

Peter felt his face heat up in embarrassment as he went back to his seat, the Avengers watching him intently. 

He shyly looked up at Tony, who was leaning on the kitchen counter, staring at his hands.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark.” He mumbled, and Tony’s eyes found his. They looked tired and… guilty.

The man shook his head and sighed, taking a sip from his shot glass. “You shouldn't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong.”

They all turned back to the TV, the fire blazing in the background tied Peter’s stomach into knots. Steve hadn't reached the site yet, and wouldn't get there for a few minutes.

The screen switched off and all eyes fell on Clint, who had the remote in hand. “This is making me depressed. We should do something else.”

Everyone nodded except for Peter. “But, what if he needs help?” He protested, His voice a bit weak.

Clint smiled and stood. “If he needs help, he’ll call us. But trust me,” He walked up to Peter and ruffled his hair. “Captain America won't need help saving a couple people.” 

Peter frowned and tried to flatten his hair (Why did they like touching his hair so much?), but didn't put up more of a fight. 

“Alright then!” Clint clapped his hands loudly, looking at each person. “Who's up for some training?”

There were murmurs of agreement from every person as they all stood and headed for the door, Peter following reluctantly. 

“Wait,” Bruce called, and everyone froze. He placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezed.

“First of all, you are not training with them.” There were some grumbles from Tony and Clint. “Second of all,” He shot the two a glare that shut them up. “you need to shower and change. That suit can't be too comfortable right now.”

Peter looked down at himself and grimaced, feeling the dried blood and suit stick to him like a second skin. He looked back up at Bruce and smiled sheepishly. “Guess I should. Sorry for any blood I got anywhere.”

Banner smiled and shook his head, then shoved everyone out of the room and towards the elevator. He then led Peter to the same room he woke up in and pushed him down onto the unmade bed. 

“There are some of Tony’s clothes in those drawers there, they may be a bit big though. The shower’s through that door, do you need help, or can you do it yourself?” Banner looked down at him expectantly, and Peter blushed at the thought of needing an Avenger’s help to shower.

“I can do it.” He squeaked, and Bruce chuckled and walked to the door. “Just call if you need anything. And careful with the bandages. They may be waterproof, but they’re not invincible.” And with that, he left the room, closing the door carefully behind him. 

Peter sighed and closed his eyes, running his hands over the silky fabric of the bed sheets. 

How could someone’s life change so drastically with one small mistake? He made the mistake of being beaten, and with a huff, he decided he wouldn't let that happen again. He couldn't afford to let it happen again.

He opened his eyes and stood, walking to the drawer Dr. Banner mentioned. Opening the top one, He grabbed a random blue shirt with the Avenger’s symbol on the back and an old pair of ripped jeans. They did seem a bit big, but they would do for now.

He entered the bathroom and shook his head, muttering ‘typical’ under his breath as he looked around. His room at his and May’s house wasn't this big. The vanity had gold edges, and Peter wouldn't be surprised if it was real, and not just paint. What looked like a chandelier lit the room, even the toilet seemed super expensive and spotless. 

He put the borrowed clothes on a bench that sat in the corner and pulled away the curtain to the shower. He groaned when he saw several buttons on the far wall with no labels. 

“C'mon, Peter, it's a shower, not a fucking spaceship. You can figure it out.” He mumbled out loud to himself as he shed off his torn Spider-Man suit.

He stepped in and examined the buttons, raising a hand to hover over each one. 

“Do you need any assistance, Mr. Parker?" J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice boomed, and Peter would have tripped had it not been for his powers. 

He looked around at the ceiling for any cameras. “Uh, yeah… How do you work this thing?”

There was a moments silence where Peter thought the A.I. wasn't going to answer him, then the water came pouring down, taking him by surprise. 

He tried to be mad. He tried, he really did, but once the shock washed away with the warm water which seemed to go over him like silk, the grime and blood swirled around his feet and into the drain, he forgot to be. 

Sighing blissfully, he rubbed at some dried blood on his arm, watching as bubbles formed and washed away.

He laughed at himself, shaking his head. “There's soap in the water,” He mumbled, looking up at the showerhead. 

He proceeded to lather his hair with a smile on his face. “Damned rich people.”

Once he got out of the shower, he dried his hair with one of the hand towels hanging on the wall and put on the borrowed clothes, being careful to not pull on the bandages around his chest. 

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he sighed. The oversized clothes and his messy wet hair made him look younger, which might be nice later in life, but not now. Not in front of the Avengers when they already thought so little of him. 

He gathered the Spider-Man suit from the ground and stepped back into the bedroom. He blinked rapidly, adjusting his sight to the bright light pouring in through the window.

The window.

His head whipped towards the small window just above the clothes drawer, and he dropped his suit in haste to get to it. 

Peeking out, he looked down to the street, hundreds of feet below him. 

He smiled and was about to open it when J.A.R.V.I.S. snuck up on him once again. This time he only flinched. 

“Mr. Parker, Sir says if you jump out that window, he will tell your aunt about your favorite hobby.”

Peter jerked his hands away from the windowsill as if he had been burnt and stared out at the cityscape. “He can't do that!”

“Sir says yes. Yes, he can. And he will if you do not go to the living room in the next few minutes.”

Peter huffed, sparing the outside world one last sad glance before stepping away. He kicked his suit into a corner in a childish act of rebellion and opened the door, walking out and down the hall to the living room. 

“Welcome to the land of the living, Peter.” Bruce smiled as he took a sip from an oversized mug. 

Peter nodded at him and crossed his arms, standing in the doorway and avoiding eye contact. An awkward silence passed between them before the older man cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Well, I guess we can go join the others now.” Peter glance at him quickly, dropping his gaze almost immediately before shrugging. 

Banner shook his head and sighed before leading him to the elevator. 

The doors slid open and the two walked in. 

“Training floor, J.” Bruce said, and the elevator dinged before moving, taking them down a few levels. 

When Banner said Training floor, what Peter wasn't expecting when the doors opened was an actual entire floor of training equipment. 

He also wasn't expecting the Avengers to try and kill each other either. 

In the boxing ring in the middle, Black Widow and Hawkeye are going at each other with everything they had. They were a blur of fists and kicks and occasionally Peter thought he saw a dagger.

He was so hypnotized by the two, how smoothly they both moved, that he barely had time to react when someone shouted “Watch out!” and his spidey sense blared. 

His hand shot up by reflex and something hard and metal slammed into it, stopping inches from his face. 

All the noise in the room seemed to fade as he lowered the object to see what it was. He recognized the colors and designs immediately, his brain switching to fanboy mode.

He was holding Captain America’s shield.

Stark and Thor ran up to him from the other side of the room. Hawkeye and Black Widow stayed where they are, just staring at him with closed expressions. 

“Peter, are you alright? Are you hurt? I didn't mean-” Peter couldn't help the bout of laughter that spilled from his lips, interrupting the man in the middle of his apology. 

He grinned and looked down at the shield, tracing the star and muttering ‘wow’ under his breath. He raised his gaze to see Stark’s surprised but curious gaze and Thor’s suspicious glare.

He blushed under their scrutinizing stares and his smile fell. 

“Uh, s-sorry. I mean- um, here, you can- here.” He blushed even harder and shoved the shield into Tony’s chest before backing away a few steps and wrapping his arms around himself.

The man’s expression shifted into something akin to fondness for a second before he smirked at the teenager. “No need to apologize. I'm the one who almost hit you in the face.”

Peter nodded hesitantly, but froze when he realized something. “Wait…” He looked up at them, and he felt the familiar sliver of panic make its way into his chest. “Captain America is out there without his shie- We have to help him!” 

His breaths were shallow as he took a few steps back towards the elevator, and he jerked away from the hand that tried to touch his shoulder, trying to calm him down. 

How could they try and calm him down? It was his fault that Captain America was down there, without his shield, no less. He was too weak to go himself, he didn't even put up a fight when the man volunteered to go! That was Spider-Man’s job, not an Avengers. Now the man might die, and it would be Peter’s fault because he was too weak, too pathetic to do it himself, god he’s such a loser-

“Peter!” Something slapped him across the face -hard- and he was brought back to the present. His eyes searched frantically around before they focused on Tony’s face, extremely close to his, and a second later he felt the hands on his shoulder. 

His back ached from where it was pushed back against the wall, and he uncurled himself from the floor. 

When did he even get there in the first place?

“Hey, Kid. you alright?” Tony asked, helping him stand. Peter nodded and cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. I, uh, s-sorry, Mr. Stark.” The man made a face and glanced at Bruce, but didn't say anything as he gave Peter’s shoulders one last squeeze before stepping back, grabbing Thor’s arm, and dragging the man across the room and out of earshot. 

Bruce led him to one of the benches by the boxing ring and they sat down, watching as Black Widow and Hawkeye went back to their spar. 

They watched in silence before Peter spoke quietly. “They're amazing.” Bruce seemed to have been lost in thought as he jerked his head to look at the boy. “Who?”

Peter motioned to the boxing ring with a wave. “Them. Mr. Barton and Black Widow.” Bruce nodded. “Her name’s Natasha.”

Another long stretch of silence passed between them, filled only with the sounds of the fight happening in front of them. 

Finally, Bruce was the one to break the silence. He turned his whole body toward Peter and hesitated a moment. “Peter, I think we should talk about this whole situation. What happened, the things that will be changing for you, but I need info. About you.” 

Peter glared at him from the corner of his eye, but didn't respond.

Bruce stared at him for a second before nodding decisively to himself. “Alright, I’ll take that as a yes.”

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “So, will you tell me how you became Spider-Man?” He asked and watched Peter expectantly.

Peter hesitated and dragged his eyes back to the fight before answering.

“Would it matter if I said no?” He filled his voice with as much venom as he could muster, and Banner sighed sadly.

“Look, kid,” He started, trying to reason with the stubborn teenager. “If you don't tell me, Tony’s going to dig up everything he has on you, which i'm pretty sure he still hasn't done. If you don't tell me, he’s gonna find out, plus what you eat for breakfast. Do you really want your privacy breached like that?”

Peter scoffed and finally faced him. “Is that a threat?” 

Bruce’s eyes widened and he tried to backtrack as fast as possible. “No, kid- Peter that's not-I didn't mean-” He was cut off when Peter stood abruptly, no longer holding back a hateful glare. 

“I'm going to my room. Don't look for me till we’re leaving.” He would finally have some time to himself before he had to go back home.

Peter grimaced at the thought of having to face his Aunt May. how would she react to him disappearing for a whole week and coming back with Mr. Stark’s lousy excuse? At the same time though, he really missed her. Missed the apartment, the crappy food, school, his friends. 

He glared around the large room to where Stark and Thor were standing. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as they both immediately turned away from watching him. 

Obviously, they were talking about him, but they were too quiet and far away for his enhanced hearing to pick up. 

He walked toward the elevator. Bruce called out his name, but otherwise made no move to stop him. 

It would have been a perfect exit, 10/10, if the elevator doors slid open before he even reached it. 

His eyes widened as Captain America walked out, suit, dirt, grime and all. 

The man was smiling, but it faltered a bit when he saw everyone’s expressions. He looked confusedly at Peter who blushed and ducked his head, practically running past him to get in the elevator. 

All eyes stayed locked on the doors as they slid closed, blocking the kid from view.

An awkward silence passed for what seemed like an eternity, no one knowing what to say. 

Steve finally looked up at everyone. “Well, I got to the fire in time. No one was severely injured.” Everyone’s shoulders slumped a bit in relief. “But what happened here? I thought the kid was-”

J.A.R.V.I.S’s voice sounded loud from the ceiling. “Apologies for interrupting, but Sir, it seems that Mr. Parker has managed to break a window and is in the process of escaping.”

Everyone’s eyes widened as they turned to Stark. “Tony, I thought the windows were bulletproof,” Clint asked, his voice high.

“They are.” and with that, everyone rushed towards the elevator for the spider hunt.


	4. I Think We Broke Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets himself grounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwahahahahaaaaa!!!! you were not expecting this, were you?! oh well. this chapter is my 'sorry-for-being-late' present for you all, so here ya go! don't forget to comment, point out anything I got wrong, or right, for that matter.

Peter’s breaths came quick and shallow as he ran across the flat rooftop. With his webshooters missing, the only other option was to jump from building to building, which, with his stiff muscles and possibly broken hand, was not a very enjoyable activity. 

Before jumping from the Avengers tower, he had thought about leaving his suit, but if he walked the streets as Peter Parker, if they looked, they would recognize him, and he wouldn't be able to escape without jeopardizing his identity. 

So Spider-Man it was. 

But now that he was free, he realized he had no idea what he was doing. 

They knew his name, so they could look up where he lived within seconds. Then he would have to face Aunt May and try his best to make up an excuse as to why they were receiving a visit from the Avengers, which would not end well, that was guaranteed. 

He landed hard on another rooftop after a particularly long jump and fell to his knees, trying to catch his breath. 

He had removed the bandages around his chest since he was already mostly healed, and he felt weird without it. Lighter, even.

After taking a moment to rub his eyes, he stood, swaying a bit before sprinting and jumping from the edge, landing on a glass building. He yelped as he slid a few feet, almost losing his grip entirely. 

Clumsily, he climbed to the top, pulling himself up and onto the roof and rolling onto his back. 

He definitely needed to get back into shape, eat more maybe.

He closed his eyes against the harsh sunlight, lying limp on the hard concrete. Maybe a few minutes rest wouldn't be too bad.

That thought died entirely as he picked up the sound of Iron Man’s repulsors in the distance.

“Dammit,” He grumbled, pushing himself up and stretching. “You’re supposed to be running the state or something, don't you have better things to do?”

He sprinted to the edge and launched himself into the air, hearing a few gasps and people calling out ‘Spider-Man’ from the street below before he latched onto the next building.

And the next.

And the next.

When he finally did reach his apartment building, he climbed to the roof and changed into the spare clothes he hid for special occasions like these.

Going down the stairs, he cradled his injured hand to his chest, trying to keep the pain to a minimum. 

He reached his door and sighed, steeling himself for whatever he had to face with May. 

He turned the knob and opened the door, walking in and looking around. 

“May, I'm home!” He called, walking into the kitchen and- HOLY SHIT HE WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT- Captain America and Hawkeye were sitting at the table with his Aunt May, drinking from his Star Wars themed mugs.

The men had their backs to him, May sitting across from them, but he went unnoticed. 

Stepping slowly and quietly backward, he almost made it out of sight before Steve tensed and turned his head, calm blue eyes locking with Peter’s panicked brown ones. 

The man smiled. “Ah, Peter.” Clint and May looked up at him, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. “You kind of left us hanging back at the Tower.”

Peter’s eyes frantically switched from face to face, and he swallowed. “Um, y-yeah, I- uh, sorry about that.”

He bit his lip and tried to make himself look as small as possible at the same time that May stood and walked up to him, hands outstretched.

“Oh, Peter, you have no idea how worried I was! You never called me, Ned and Michelle said they didn't know where you were, even Gwen was worried.” She enveloped him in a tight hug that he didn't return. His eyes were locked on the two men sitting at the table, watching him. 

Clint subtly raised a hand to his ear and mumbled something, most likely into an earpiece. Steve stood and pushed his chair in, but didn't move closer. 

May released him from her death-grip after a few long moments and looked him in the eye. “Peter Parker, you are grounded for a month, young man!”

That got his attention and he finally turned to her. “What? But May, I-”

“No buts!” May frowned at him and stepped back, crossing her arms.

“May, I can't do that! Look, I'm sorry, ok? I lost my phone, I was just… really busy… and anyways, Ned and Michelle’s party is this Friday! I promised them I would go!” He was not whining. At all. Nope, not whining.

She shook her head at him, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Barton trying to hold in his laughter and Rogers elbowing him in the side. 

“You should have thought of that before disappearing, then.”

Peter crossed his arms and huffed, dropping his gaze to the floor. He was definitely not pouting. Nope, not at all.

Just at that moment, the doorbell rang. May gave him one last glare before leaving the room. 

Once she was out of earshot, he turned back to the two men who seemed to have calmed down.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” He hissed. “You have no right to come here!”

“And you,” Clint stepped forward and pointed a finger at him. “were supposed to stay in your room and not jump out a window.” His eyes then lowered to where Peter was subconsciously nursing his injured hand.

“Speaking of, is it broken?” Steve added, and Peter immediately dropped his hands to his sides.

“It’s fine.” He snapped, earning him two incredulous glares. “Well... maybe. I dunno.”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but May walked in, looking a bit fazed. 

“Peter, honey?” Peter was definitely worried now.

“The, um, Avengers are here to see you.”

Oh.

On cue, Stark walked into view, looking none to happy. Natasha and an anxious-looking Dr. Banner followed, stopping in the doorway.

“Hey! Pete! Ya lost us a bit back there, you know. Not nice.” Tony walked up to him and patted him on the shoulder, a bit too hard to be real.

Peter looked around the room, glancing at May before shrugging off the hand and stepping away.

“Can we go somewhere else if we’re gonna talk? My room, maybe?” Tony was about to speak, but May beat him to it.

“Oh, it's alright. I was going shopping anyways. Do you need anything, hun?” Peter blushed and shook his head, mumbling a ‘thank you’. 

May smiled and waved to everyone before speeding out of the room and out of the apartment, slamming the door closed behind her.

The apartment was eerily quiet, except for the constant drip of water from the plumbing under the sink, something Peter hadn't gotten around to fixing yet.

The tension seemed to suffocate him as everyone glared full force. Before he could have another panic attack, thankfully, Banner cleared his throat. 

“Um, how’s your hand?” He asked quietly, and Peter winced, rubbing his wrist softly.

“It's fine.” He mumbled, and Steve frowned. 

“Actually, he said it might be broken. Bruce, you should take a look at it.”

Peter glared at the man and huffed. 

Banner walked forwards and took his hand carefully, pressing down on a few spots. Peter couldn't help the small whimper that escaped him at the prodding. 

After a few moments, Bruce nodded. “It's not broken, but it's sprained pretty badly.” Peter flinched. “I don't have anything with me, but we should wrap it. “ 

“Um, ok…” He hesitated when no one moved or said anything. “I’ll go get the, um, stuff. I guess.” He speed-walked out of the kitchen as fast as he could and went to his room. 

He closed the door and pressed his back to it, trying to calm his breathing. 

“I'm so fucking screwed.” He breathed, closing his eyes. 

He took a few moments to recollect himself before unsticking himself from the door and walking to his twin-sized bed, looking under it and grabbing a small white box.

He went back to the kitchen to find Steve, Banner, and Natasha sitting at the table, Stark studying the photos on the fridge, and Clint doing tricks with May’s favorite kitchen knife. 

“Hey, no, put that down.” He walked up to Barton and snatched the knife mid-air with his free hand, glaring at the man before putting it in the sink. 

“Who’s this?” Stark asked, grabbing one of the photos and squinting at it. 

Peter’s eyes grew wide and he almost tripped in his haste to get the photo back. It was one of the few they had of him, Aunt May, and Uncle Ben together. They had been at Disney World at the time for Peter’s tenth birthday.

He snatched it from Stark’s hands and pulled it close to his chest, glaring at the man before carefully placing the picture back onto the fridge and securing it with a magnet.

“I thought you wanted to yell at me or something. Get it over with and get out.” He walked over to the table and handed Banner the white box.

The man opened it and his eyes widened. “...Jesus, kid.” Peter’s brows furrowed and he looked inside. 

Four empty bottles of sleeping pills, three bottles of pain meds, only two of them empty, a shit ton of bandages, needle and thread, two elastic bandages, and to fill up the empty spaces, blood-covered paper towels Peter was too lazy to throw out. 

He grabbed the elastic bandages and closed the lid, ignoring Banner’s shocked gaze. 

Ignoring everyone's stares, he tried to wrap his hand himself. He hissed in pain and dropped the roll when he tightened it too much, and growled in frustration. 

He bent down to pick it up, but hands on his shoulder pulled him back.

“Easy there, kiddo,” Stark said, his voice gentle. Peter looked up at him and dropped his gaze, letting the man lead him to a chair and push him down. 

Clint was the one to pick up the roll and hand it to Banner.

Peter closed his eyes as the man gently wrapped the elastic bandages around his wrist, then his hand, finally securing it with a small clip.

He pulled his hand to his chest and ran his fingers over the elastic. He looked up at Banner and Barton, then at Stark, who still had his hands on his shoulders. 

“Thanks.” He said quietly. “Look, I, uh, I'm sorry about… leaving. It seemed like a good idea at the time, I was mad, I still am, I think. It was a bad idea, I thought I could get away and act like nothing happened. It was rude what i did, and i'm sorry, i wasn't thinking-”

“Woah, kid. Breathe.” Steve said, and Peter inhaled loudly, out of breath from his rambling. 

“Sorry.” He breathed, and Stark chuckled, pulling his hands away and walking around the table to stand between Banner and Natasha. 

Silence passed over the group, less tense this time. 

“Well, now that we're here,” Banner started, but Peter interrupted him. 

“You want to know about Spider-Man.”

The group shared a look and nodded hesitantly. Peter sighed and picked at a scratch in the table before speaking. 

“Well, long story short, I broke into some… weird place in Oscorp on a field trip, It was uh, filled with spiders, I got bit by one, came home, woke up the next morning sick as hell, thought I was dying, and poof! I can do stuff now.”

“...Wow.” Natasha said after a few seconds, and Peter chuckled. “Yeah, wow.”

“But, why did you- I mean, you didn't have to become Spider-Man. You could have, just lived with it, I guess. Couldn't you?” Clint asked. 

Peter thought about Uncle Ben, and he sighed. “With great power comes great responsibility.” He looked up at Clint. “That's what my Uncle used to say.”

He hesitated, lowering his gaze. 

”When you can do the things that I can... but don't… and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.” 

Once again, the room was silent, everyone watching the teenager in front of them, Peter, with his head ducked, tried to keep his emotions in check.

Saying that out loud was not as easy as he thought it would be. It brought back memories and feeling he thought he had buried long ago, and they made his chest tight, made it feel like he might burst. 

“That's a lot of pressure to put on yourself, don't you think? Maybe too much weight on your skinny shoulders?” Stark asked, his eyes curious. 

Peter shrugged and swallowed down the lump in his throat. “If I don't, then who will?”

And maybe that was not the smartest thing to say to a bunch of superheroes, the Avengers. He immediately regretted his words as everyone broke eye contact, looking guilty.

He pushed himself up. “Wait- no, that- t-that's not what-”

Steve raised a hand, and he shut his mouth with an audible ‘click’.

“No, you're right. Your uncle is right. Seems like a smart man.”

Peter smiled to himself, a soft, sad one that none of the occupants of the room missed. 

“Yeah. yeah, he was.”

Stark’s eyes found the photograph on the fridge, and he stared, trying to memorize the faces of the three people. One happy, young, innocent Peter, a smiling Aunt May, and the man holding Peter in a one-sided hug. His uncle.

“You know, fighting alone isn't the best thing to do.” Natasha’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts. She was talking in the tone she used only around Clint’s kids, Tony noticed. 

Peter’s head tilted to the side in confusion, and Natasha continued. “Even we need help sometimes. Someone that's got out backs.”

“Oh.” Peter breathed, shifting in his seat. “B-but, but you guys like, fight aliens, and, stuff like that. I only do the small stuff. Stop robberies, give people directions, help old ladies cross the street. It's not supposed to be… hard.” He mumbled the last word, biting his lip again. 

“Oh, so you're saying that the crazy guy with metal arms -eight of them, may I add- was supposed to be an easy battle.” Stark asked, his voice laced with disbelief. 

Peter huffed and looked to the side. “That was my fault. I shouldn't have gone down so easily.”

At this, Banner shook his head. “No no, I was there. You saved that officer, literally jumping in front of him. You had no choice.”

The look Peter gave was enough to show that he didn't believe them. He peered at each of them. They all looked sincere, but something was stopping him from agreeing. He didn't know what. 

“Well, kid, what Nat was saying was that, we got your back, so if you need anything, don't hesitate to drop by the oversized christmas tree in the middle of New York.” Clint said, earning himself an elbow in the side by Stark.

“Y-yeah. Ok. “ He muttered, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Though, i don't think that’ll be happening any time soon.” Clint added with a mischievous smirk.

Everyone turned to him in confusion, and his smirk grew. “Buy-boy here got himself grounded for a month. A month!”

Stark gaped and turned to Peter, whose eyes widened as he opened his mouth to speak.

“What, no! No no, Mr. Barton, that's not-” He was interrupted when Stark burst out laughing, followed closely by the others.

Hesitating only for a second, he allowed himself a small smile as he watched the group.

Maybe someone having his back wouldn't be too bad after all.

Maybe it was just what he needed.


	5. Hi, Loser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned, MJ, and Gwen meet the Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. This chapter sucks pretty bad. but hey, at least I'm on time, right? Sorry about, like, everything. Please don't yell at me. this just kinda popped in my head and I had no other ideas so now everything is all mixed up and weird. just like me (heh). Thanks for putting up with me, and I hope I didn't ruin your lives X'3

“Do you want something to drink, or are you satisfied with laughing at me?” Peter glared at the group, but without any real heat behind it. 

Stark rubbed his chest with the heel of his palm as he calmed. “Do you have coffee? I refuse to ingest anything else.”

Peter turned to the counter and pointed to the coffee maker. “Pretty sure we do, but I don't know how to make it.”

The man gaped at him, his mouth hanging open. “You don't- my god.” He turned to Bruce. “The kid doesn't know how to make coffee.” 

Bruce shook his head, smiling softly. “Don't ruin him, Tony. He’s so young.”

Peter would be lying if he said he didn't feel a tad offended at that. “You all can sit in the living room if you want. I'll bring orange juice.”

They all bounded out of the kitchen, chattering loudly, and Peter finally let the smile fall off his face. 

Whatever happened to privacy? Secret identity? These people knew everything about him, or would soon. He messed up sooooo bad this time. And what was he even thinking? He didn't need anybody, He’s made it this far without help.

He reached up into the cabinets and brought down five glasses. Hopefully they’d all leave soon. He didn't know how much more of… of ‘this’... he could take. 

Opening the fridge and pulling out the orange juice, he poured them all to the halfway point. There wouldn't be enough for everyone if he filled them. 

Something crashed in the living room, and Peter flinched violently, dropping the glass he had in his hand. It shattered on the floor right in front of his feet, and he watched the shards bounce across the floor. 

Steve’s head popped into view with a guilty and concerned expression. “Are you alright?”

Peter stared blankly at him, then at the glass. Looking back up, he shook his head slowly. “No.” He said quietly, feeling numb for some reason. 

Steve fully entered the room, his brows pulled together. He gently pulled Peter away from the mess and out of the kitchen, joining the others who had quieted down. Clint was holding a broken vase behind his back in a poor attempt to hide it. 

“What happened?” Bruce asked, getting up from the couch to Peter could sit. The boy stared blankly at his hands, not responding. 

“Damn, I think we broke him,” Stark commented, earning him a couple of glares. 

“Peter, hey, you good?” Clint set down the vase and waved a hand in front of his face, and the kid finally looked up. 

He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound came out. His gaze dropped back to his hands hopelessly. 

After a deafening silence, the phone rang loudly, and Peter jumped up and ran for it, making the Avengers flinch back at the abruptness. 

Peter grabbed the phone and pulled it up to his ear. “ ‘ello?”

There was an excited chatter on the other side before someone spoke. “Peter! Oh my god! May texted me, she said you were back- we were so worried! You can't just disappear like that!”

He winced a bit at the volume but smiled. “Hello to you too, Gwen.” 

The chatter returned, and he recognized the other voices as Ned and Michelle. “Hey, Pete? We're on our way to your apartment right now, ok? Haven't seen you in forever.”

“I'm gonna murder the brat!” He heard Michelle shout in the background, but he ignored her. 

“W-what? Wait, no! No, Gwen, you guys can't come over.”

There was a short pause before she spoke again. “Are you in trouble? Hurt? Is it because of… you know.”

He shut his eyes tight and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes- I mean, no, but- just don't-”

“Peter, we're on our way.”

“Guys, no, wait-” Then she hung up. She hung up on him! 

He turned slowly to face the group that was staring at him in confusion. “You all need to go.”

Banner hung his head, trying but failing miserably to hide his smile. Tony plopped down on the couch, bouncing a bit before settling down. “Who was that, Your girlfriend?”

Peter walked away from the phone and made his way to the door. “Yes, it was. And she and some friends are on their way. Right now. So, you need to go.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Clint asked at the same time Stark said “You have friends?”

“You're like… ten! How can you have a girlfriend?” Clint added, his voice unnaturally high. 

“That- that's not the point! Please go.” He pleaded, but Stark shook his head. 

“Nope. I want to meet this… girlfriend of yours. Give my parent seal of approval.”

Peter laughed dryly, though it came out more like a sob. He leaned against the door and put his head in his hands. “Oh my god, just kill me.”

Steve and Natasha frowned but didn't say anything.

“Do they know about you being Spider-Man?” Banner asked, And Peter hesitated a second before nodding.

“How?” Natasha raised a brow. “Did you tell them?”

“N- what? No. I uh, well, Ned found out first. He was in my room when I snuck in, couldn't lie my way out of that one. Um…. Gwen, I was pretty…. beat up, and I kinda woke up in her room. She said I was ‘out of it, half-conscious, and bleeding out,’ so… that happened. And MJ... I actually have no idea. She kinda just figured it out. Told me I'm terrible at keeping secrets.” He was blushing by the end, and his gaze dropped. 

Before anyone could get a word in, the doorbell rang. Peter flinched. “Shit.”

Steve glared at him, but he ignored it and breathed deeply before cracking the door open. He immediately stumbled backward when two figures lunged forward, wrapping their arms around him.

“Peter! We thought you were dead!” Ned let go of him after a moment, and Michelle walked in, barely glancing up from her book as she muttered “Hey, loser.”

Gwen only hugged him tighter. “You have no idea how worried I was.” She whispered into his shirt. 

Peter glanced at the Avengers, who surprisingly, went unnoticed. Each of them had their eyebrows raised. 

He sighed. “Look, Gwen, I-”

His head snapped to the side, cutting off his apology, and his cheek stung, turning a bright angry red with the force of the slap. 

“Jesus Christ,” He breathed, and nodded, looking down at Gwen. Tears filled her eyes, but damn was she mad. 

He vaguely heard Stark whispering “Parent seal of approval earned.”

“Okay, I deserved that, but can you wait till later, there's kind of-”

“No! I won't wait! Peter, I was watching the news that day. I saw what happened. You think you can just leave like that, without telling anyone?! For a week, Peter! I thought you had…. Remember what we talked about the last time you came to my room, covered in blood and cuts, half dead?”

Peter winced, very aware of the stares he was receiving from around the room. 

“Can you please just listen to me for a second?” He rushed out, and Gwen leaned back, crossing her arms. 

“Ther-” He barely began before Ned interrupted them. 

“Oh. My. God.” 

It was barely a whisper, but the three kids turned to look at him. His mouth was gaping, eyes impossibly wide as he stared into the living room. 

“Surprised it took you that long.” Stark walked away from the rest of the Avengers, a smirk on his face. 

Ned looked like he was about to faint, Gwen was… surprised, to say the least. And MJ, well, MJ had her usual expression of indifference, but with a glint in her eye. 

The man swung an arm around Peter’s shoulders, and the boy cringed, his friends staring at them both.

“So you're Peter’s friends,” He tilted his head toward Gwen. “and girlfriend.”

“Y-you, oh my god, you're Tony Stark,” Ned stumbled over his words, and Stark shrugged. 

“That's what my driver's license says.”

Gwen stepped forward then, and Peter couldn't help but lean away from her, but that meant leaning more against Stark, who still hadn't moved his arm. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her voice hard. Steve walked out of the living room, and Ned had to lean against the wall.

“We were told you know about Peter’s….” The super-soldier paused for a moment, looking for the right word, but Ned beat him to it. 

“PETER’S SPIDERMAN!” He all but screamed, and Peter hung his head. 

“Ned?” Peter called, and the boy's awestruck face turned to him. “Shut up.”

“When’d you get so friendly with the Avengers, Peter?” MJ asked, studying the people in the living room closely. Clint waved stupidly, and Natasha whacked him across the head.

He ducked under Stark’s arm and back up a few steps. “They kidnapped me.” He said nonchalantly.

“They- what?” Gwen turned to Stark with a disbelieving expression, and MJ led Ned to the couch to sit down among the Avengers. 

“We actually saved him,” Stark explained, shooting Peter a glare. 

“Yeah, we made sure he healed.” Banner said.

Peter crossed his arms and huffed. “By keeping me in your tower against my will.”

Gwen’s expression softened and she walked up to Peter, ruffling his hair. “Ok, Rapunzel.”

She walked into the living room as Peter scowled. “Why is everyone touching my hair?”

Stark walked past him into the living room, but not without messing with his hair again. “You're so easily annoyed. It's adorable.”

Peter followed them into the large room and stood by Gwen, definitely-not-a-pout on his face.

“Before we start this… whatever this is going to turn out to be, I want to thank you all for taking care of Peter. God knows he can't do it himself.”

“We figured that,” Steve said, smiling when Peter let out a quiet sound of protest. 

“Why doesn't everyone sit down, so we can talk.” Banner said, and everyone agreed. 

Stark sat in one chair, and Clint and Natasha sat on another, Clint almost sitting on her lap. Banner and Steve sat on the couch, along with Ned, MJ, and Gwen. Peter stayed standing, leaning against the armrest by Gwen. 

“So, how should we start our ‘Peter’ talk?” Stark asked, and Banner cleared his throat. 

“Well, I was going to ask something, now that we have more people, I guess the answers will be more accurate.”

“Ask away, then.”

“Alright. Um, Peter, What I wanted to ask was… your panic attacks, do you have them often?”

Peter’s eyes widened and he felt his cheeks heat up. “Um, I- No. No, of course not, I-”

“He does. At least once a week, after something bad happens, or after patrol. He comes to mine or Ned’s house to calm down. Right, Ned?” Gwen turned to Ned, ignoring the way Peter spluttered and tried his hardest to form a full sentence. 

“Um… yeah, yeah,” Ned answered, nodding his head vigorously.

Peter shook his head and pointed an accusing finger at the three. “No, th-they, no, I don't- they don't know w-what they're talking about. They all hate me.”

Steve shook his head empathetically. “It's alright to have them, Peter, all of us have had them at least a thousand times.”

The boy's mouth pressed into a thin line and his jaw set, but he didn't respond, looking away from the group with a furious blush covering his cheeks. 

“And you've had like, three, just today, so it's not like you're hiding anything,” Stark commented, flinching when Natasha kicked him in the shin. 

“Anything else we should know about? Weaknesses, any strange… biological complications?” Bruce asked, and Michelle, Ned, and Gwen had to hide their smiles. 

“I don't have eight legs or fangs if that's what you're asking,” Peter grumbled, still avoiding their gaze. “And why do you even care? Why are we having this conversation? Why was I even born…”

Gwen scowled up at him and smacked him on the shoulder. “Don't be such a baby. They're just trying to help.” She looked around the room once more. “I also have a feeling you'll be seeing them a lot more from now on.”

“That. Is. So. Freaking. COOL!” Ned said, practically vibrating with excitement. MJ rolled her eyes, otherwise not taking her attention off of her book. 

“Shut up, Ned.” Peter glared at his friend, who didn't even notice. 

After a few moments of silence, Gwen stood. “Well, all we wanted to do was make sure you were alright, Pete. Guess we should go now.”

Peter turned to her finally, expression softening. “S-sorry about, well, everything.” He winced and rubbed his arm.

She smiled as Ned and Michelle stood too. “Don't be. I have a feeling they'll help you out more than you know.” He walked the three to the door, opening it with a shy smile. 

“I guess I'll see you guys later?” He asked, and Gwen smiled. “Sooner than you think.” 

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before walking out that left him blushing furiously. Ned walked past him in a daze, mumbling “My best friend is friends with the Avengers…” And MJ walked straight past him, throwing a “Later, Parker,” over her shoulder.

He closed the door and exhaled, willing his heartbeat to go back to normal. 

“With friends like that who needs enemies.” Clint grinned and Peter glared at him.

“Oh shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY XP


	6. Parker Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I suck, my writing does too, I'm late, I'm sorry, feel free to add to this list if you have the time. I have been slacking off, and this chapter is short, and pretty rushed. Oh well. I promise though, I SWEAR, this is going somewhere. thanks for sticking around, Y'all.
> 
> One last thing.
> 
> YOU ARE ALL ANGELS AND I DONT DESERVE YOU THANK YOU

“How did it affect you after you got …bitten?” Banner asked after Peter had sat down on the couch across from the rest of the Avengers. 

“Why?” The teenager crossed his arms and leaned back into the couch.

“My god,” Clint groaned, throwing his hands in the air, almost hitting Natasha in the face. “Will you stop being a moody teenager for like, five minutes? I beg of you, I don't think I can take much more.”

“Now you know what it feels like to be around you, birdbrain,” Stark smirked, and Clint stuck his tongue out at him. 

“Peter, please. All we want to do is help. What if… something happened again, and you needed help? We need to know this.” Banner tried to reason with the boy, but Peter shook his head. 

“You never cared before, why should you care now? And it's not like I'm planning on getting beat up again, as I said. I can take care of myself. I don't need anyone.” 

The look of disappointment from everyone in the room was enough to make his confidence falter a bit. Anyone who got that look of disapproval from Captain America probably deserves 100000 hours of community service. Or jail time. Either or.

“Is that what your Aunt teaches you?” Stark had the nerve to ask, and Peter felt his blood boil. 

“Don't you dare bring her into this.” He ground out, clenching his good fist. Logically, he knew that they were testing how far they could go before they got a ...reaction, but Peter couldn't bring himself to care.

“Woah, calm yourself, Parker.” Stark raised his hands in surrender, and Peter sighed, sinking into the couch. 

If possible, these people were as stubborn as him. Maybe more, even. He absolutely hated it when people stuck their noses into his personal life, but in this case, if it would get them off his back, He guessed he could make an exception. 

He turned to Banner. “Before the bite, I was… I don't know. Nerdy, skinny, I wore glasses. After the fever wore off, I had… muscle, I guess. I didn't need my glasses anymore, I stuck to stuff… and yeah.” He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. 

God, was this embarrassing.

“What was your fever like?” Steve asked, and Banner glanced over at him with concern clear in his expression. 

“I, um, well, my temperature went up, like, a lot. I was throwing up, it was like I could… like I could feel my body changing. Wait, no, scratch that. That was weird. But yeah. It hurt. My senses went crazy. I could hear, basically everything. The lights were so bright, everything was… was too much.” He sighed and dropped his gaze, focusing on his hands instead. 

Banner frowned, and Steve gave an empathetic nod. He knew what the boy was talking about, and ‘It hurt’ doesn't even begin to scratch the surface.

“And so, you became Spider-Man because you felt it was your responsibility to help people since you had the power to do so?” Natasha asked skeptically, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Well, yeah.” Peter ran a hand through his hair, the nervous habit becoming more and more obvious. 

Stark scooted forward a bit, looking into the kitchen. “Would your uncle have anything to do with that?”

Peter stared at him, unblinking, and the man turned to him, raising a brow. Before he got the chance to respond, Stark continued. 

“Well, you did say your uncle told you ‘great power great responsibility’ or some shit, and since obviously he went and got himself shot, according to police records, that would be around the time Spider-Man shows up, right? Cuz I would think-”

Before he knew what he was doing, Peter had shot up from the couch and lunged at the man, who stood in surprise. His fist reared back, he was so close to hitting the bastard in his snotty little face. How dare this man talk about his uncle that way? He could never be half the man Uncle Ben was. Clint jumped forward and wrapped his arms around him from behind, trapping his arms against his sides and attempting to pull him back. Ripping one arm free, he elbowed the archer in the jaw, and the man stumbled back. He whirled back to face Stark, both hands balled into fists, but froze at the bright light from Iron Man’s gauntlet inches from his face. His spidey-sense went off at the base of his skull, and his breath hitched. 

Oh, so it goes off just now, seconds from being beheaded? Thanks, spidey-sense. What would I do without you?

“Stand. Down.” The man ordered, his eyes cold and his voice leaving no room for argument. Peter stumbled back a step, his eyes not leaving the bright light aimed at him and ignoring the migraine forming behind his temples. 

Steve walked up carefully behind him and wrapped a hand around Peter’s bicep with caution. When the teenager didn't lash out, he pulled him slowly back to the couch and sat down beside him. 

Stark’s gauntlet folded back into his watch and he eyed Peter warily before sitting back down. 

A tense silence fell over them, everyone watched Peter, who kept his gaze on his hands. 

Finally, Bruce sighed and broke the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

Peter shook his head and fisted his hands. “I want you to leave.” He snapped. “I want you to leave, never come back.” He stood. “If I ever see you around here again, I swear to god I will-”

The words caught in his throat, a wave of emotion overcoming him. Here he was, trying to defend his uncle while doing the exact things he was told not to do. He closed his eyes against the tears starting to form. He was never this emotional, what was wrong with him?

Once he had gathered himself, he opened his eyes, sitting carefully back down and mumbling an apology.

A moment passed before Natasha stood, looking Peter in the eye. “I think we've overstayed our visit.”

Stark was about to protest, but the look she gave him was enough to shut him up. 

The Avengers stood and walked out of the apartment without a word, glancing worriedly at Peter, who had yet to move or speak. 

Once the door closed with a barely audible ‘click’, Peter sprang up and ran to his room, slamming the door closed behind him. He rushed to get his backpack, which was on the floor in the middle of a pile of dirty clothes (what can he say, he busy nowadays!).

He had to get out of here before he punched something expensive. Or important. And anyway, why punch walls when you can punch criminals, right? 

He kicked some dirty clothes into his closet and wrote a quick note to Aunt May saying he went for a walk in case she got home first. 

He opened the window and clambered out, climbing up to the roof and grabbing his suit from the box he had hidden it in earlier. Stuffing it in his backpack, he jogged up to the edge of the roof and stretched out his arm, planning on hiding in an alley to change into his suit.

Keyword: Planning.  
When nothing happened, he tried to shoot another web with the same results. 

“What the hell?” He murmured to himself as he rolled down his sleeve.

It hit him like a bus, and he groaned. Actually, he’d rather be hit by a bus. It didn't hurt that much, and it was way better than this.

He had completely forgotten that the Avengers still had his webshooters. And his phone. And everything else that was in his pockets, including a five dollar bill he was going to use to buy some tacos the day he was taken down.

Sighing heavily, he backed away from the edge and dropped his backpack, taking out the suit and changing as fast as possible, before running to get a head start and leaping off the edge of the building. 

He was so used to having his webshooters that he almost missed the lamp post. 

Landing on the balls of his feet and his fingertips, he looked around at the traffic before leaping across the street to another pole.

A few minutes passed, him leaping from one pole to the next, being careful of his injured hand, and the people under him staring and shouting.

“You know what? What the hell.” He grumbled as he grabbed the metal with both hands, hesitating only a second before sliding down and dropping onto the sidewalk.

Cuz why not try to act like a normal human being for once in his lifetime?

There were gasps and murmurs from the crowd surrounding him, and he gave an awkward wave before starting his walk. 

Avengers Tower could easily be seen, now all he had to do was break in, grab his stuff, and break out.

Easy, right?

Yeah, it would probably be easier if he knew where his stuff was in the hundred floor building.

Turning a corner, his spidey-sense buzzed right before someone slammed into him, and with him moping and lost in his thoughts, he was not prepared, and they both tumbled onto the concrete.

Peter didn't even try to break his fall as he sprawled out onto the sidewalk, his head slamming against it.

“...owie…”

The man on top of him started to pick himself up, mumbling apologies. The sunglasses he wore hid his eyes, and the stubble on his chin made him look… shady, Peter decided. 

The man froze on top of him, his hand touching the spandex of Peters suit. 

“...Spider-Man?”

Peter lifted his head off the ground. “I have a girlfriend if that's what you're asking.”

The man tensed and apologized again before picking himself up, Peter following a second later. 

“I'm sorry.” Shady Man said. He was facing Peter, but he had the feeling that he wasn't looking at him for some reason.

His spidey-sense was still buzzing in the base of his skull, a quiet warning, and he stayed alert, ready to move if the man did turn out to be dangerous.

“No problemo, I'm glad I was there to break your fall,” Peter said with a dramatic bow, frowning when the man just stood there, frozen and staring into space. 

“Um, do you need something?” He asked, aware now of the large crowd they had gathered.

Shady Man lips twisted into a small smile. “Can you pass me my cane? I seem to have dropped it.”

Peter’s eyes widened in realization after a moment and he looked to the ground, where he spotted a black cane sitting a foot away.

“Holy- I mean, I'm so sorry, I didn't know-” He stuttered as he retrieved the can and put it in the man's hand.

“It's fine.” He interrupted, and Peter snapped his mouth shut. “You seem… distracted.”

Peter blinked dumbly, then shrugged, subtly looking at the growing crowd that the man seemed oblivious to. 

“I gotta pick something up. It's kinda important.”

The man nodded and stepped forward, offering his hand. “Then I guess you better get to it then, huh?”

Peter hesitantly shook his hand. “Um, yeah. Well, see you later, Mister… Sir.”

The man withdrew his hand and chuckled. “My name’s Matt. Matt Murdock.”

“Then see you around, Mr. Murdock.”

Murdock walked past him and nodded, and Peter began forward again, looking up at the Avengers tower in the distance. 

“Take care of that hand, Spider-Man.”

Peter froze and whipped around.

“Wh-”

The man was nowhere to be seen, lost in the crowd, which seemed to be losing interest in the red and blue clad vigilante.

Peter started to follow him, but froze. He needed his webshooters if he wanted to catch anyone, and he needed them fast. 

Groaning, he turned around and jogged down the sidewalk, crossing streets and waving at the people who shouted ‘Spider-Man!’

Finally, he reached the tower, standing in front of the doors and looking up to the top, where the setting sun made the glass windows look orange.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

He had just kicked these people out of his apartment, threatened them, and now look at him. 

If only, oh if only, he had had the brains enough to get his stuff before jumping out that window.

Just then the door slipped open, revealing none other than the last person in the world Peter wanted to see.

“Hey, Spidey! Didn't think we’d be seeing each other so soon.” Stark walked towards him with his arms outstretched and a smirk on his face.


	7. Science Bros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeetity yeet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...would you believe me if I said I was swallowed by a whale and lost all but one of my fingers? that seems like a legit excuse. Yep... Imma go with that. 
> 
> I'm SoRrY oK?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! 
> 
> It's short, It's crappy, It's hella late, but honestly, did you expect anything else?

“I need my stuff back.” Peter ignored the man, getting straight to the point. 

Stark’s brows furrowed in confusion before rising. “Oh, you mean those, you know, the ‘thwip thwip’ things?” He imitated shooting the webs with both hands.

Peter rolled his eyes under the mask, entering the building lobby when Stark motioned him to. 

“Mr. Stark, I need them back. And my phone and money.” He added the last part hastily, and the man chuckled. He looked around at the people in the room before approaching Peter and swinging an arm around his shoulders, walking them both slowly toward the elevator. 

“I got your five dollars, that's no problem.” He sighed, and Peter narrowed his eyes. “Now, about your web thingys…”

“You lost them?!” Peter pulled away from the man, his eyes wide with disbelief and denial. 

The man shook his head. “No! I don't lose things.” He sighed and rocked back on his heels, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“I just kinda… took them apart…?”

Peter stared at the man, tense and unblinking, and even though he had his mask on, he could tell Stark was unnerved by the stillness.

“Y-you broke my webshooters,” He whispered in horror, feeling his heart squeeze.

“Well, no I took them apart, there's a dif-”

“You broke my webshooters!” Peter near-shouted, gaining them a few looks from the people in the lobby. 

Stark was about to speak, but Peters panicked voice interrupted him. “Do you even know how long it took to build those? To get all the parts and put them together without anyone seeing? To- to get them to fit me exactly, to give them enough power to shoot far enough? I've been using those for- forever! And you decide to dissect them?! How am I- how am I supposed to do literally anything, if you ruined my webshooters!?!”

Stark reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Spidey-”

“No! Don't touch me,” Peter jerked away, and Stark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Can we at least get in the elevator, away from our audience?”

Peter looked around, finally noticing the people frozen in their spots, staring at them. 

“...oh.”

After a moment of hesitation, he shuffled into the elevator, Stark followed closely. The doors slid shut, cutting them off from view.

Peter crossed his arms and turned his head away from Stark to stare at the wall, and the man sighed, shaking his head and mumbling under his breath as the elevator began to move. 

A heavy silence fell upon them, the tension was suffocating, and after a long moment, Peter ripped his mask off and turned to face the man. Before he could say anything, Stark raised his hands and interrupted.

“Kid, you would have them right now if you had done what you were told and stayed put! I just took them apart to see how they worked, and I was going to have them put back together by the time we went to drop you off, but nooooooo~! I had to spend the rest of my evening chasing after you, who decided punching through bulletproof glass and jumping out a window was a good idea!”

His voice rose with each sentence, and Peter couldn't hide his flinch as Stark spat out the last word.

That’s how they were found by the rest of the team when the elevator doors slid open. Stark fuming with his breaths coming a bit heavy, and Peter leaning back a bit, eyes wide with barely concealed fear and his mask balled in his fidgeting hands.

Everyone stared at the two from their seats in the room with a mixture of confusion and worry.

The silence finally broke when Peter squeaked out “I said I was sorry,” His voice an octave higher than usual. 

Stark stared him down a moment longer before sniffing offendedly and walking out of the elevator.

Peter hesitantly followed, stepping into the room and standing awkwardly as the rest of the team's eyes were either on him or on Stark, who didn't hesitate a moment before speed walking out of the room. 

After a few awkward moments, Banner cleared his throat. “So, um, Peter,” He tried giving the boy a reassuring smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “What's up?”

Peter seemed to curl in on himself before answering, his bangs falling into his eyes as he ducked his head and his shoulders slumping inwards.

“I need my stuff.” He answered quietly, almost bashfully.

Banner nodded awkwardly, hesitating a long moment before opening the book on his lap and continuing to read. 

Steve continued to stare and noticed how the boy was nursing his injured hand.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, motioning with his head.

“My pride? Yes.” Peter answered without thinking, then blushed and ducked his head even further. “I-I mean, y-no. It should be healed by now, though,”

The super-soldier smiled and nodded, ignoring the snort from Bruce.

Another minute passed in awkward silence, Steve playing with a thread come loose from the armrest, Natasha sleeping -or at least pretending to- Clint throwing him glares as he held an ice pack to his jaw, and Peter, just standing there, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, avoiding any and all eye contact attempted to be made. 

Peter thought he might implode, but was saved when he heard Starks footsteps approaching. The man stepped around a corner and into the room, and Peter’s eyes were immediately drawn to the objects in his hands. 

It took everything in him to not snatch them and run. Instead, he hesitated as Stark held them out to him, giving him a calculated and expectant look. Reaching forward cautiously, he grabbed the crumpled five dollar bill first, then his old phone, which had a huge spider web (Hah, spider web) crack starting in the corner and extending toward the opposite end from when he forgot to close his pocket while on patrol, and it had slipped out mid-swing. Lastly, he felt his chest constrict at the sight of his webshooters. The top metal plate was off of both of them, exposing wires and spring that, if you will, Should Not Be Visible, mind you. 

He carefully scooped up the loose screws and parts into his own hands, and Stark hastily pulled away, wiping his palms on his pants before stepping around the boy to fully enter the room. 

“I tried putting them back together, earlier today. I didn't have time.” 

Peter didn't react, just continued to stare at the objects in his hands. 

A long and awkward silence passed before the teen moved, turning around and looking up at the group. He opened his mouth, paused, then closed it, his eyes flitting downwards before opening it again. 

“...sorry, I’ll… just go now.” He said quietly, almost in a whisper. 

“Don't you want to stay for a bit?” Banner asked.

“No.” The teen answered before the man even finished, watching him with wide eyes. 

“..ok,”

Another awkward pause.

“..Ok, I gotta put these back together before patrol tonight, so bye!” The boy whirled around, walking out of the room.

“Do you do it every night?” Stark asked as Peter turned the corner, his bright red and blue suit disappearing from view.

“Crime never sleeps, Mr. Stark!” He hollered from the hallway.

Stark sat on the countertop and looked up at the ceiling. 

“Don't let him out, J.”

The others looked at him questionably, but the man just smirked.

Five long seconds later, Peter walked back in, a scowl on his face. 

“Your stupid elevator isn't working.”

Stark put a hand on his chest and gasped offendedly. “Watch your mouth, kid. Nothing in this tower is stupid.”

He hesitated and furrowed his brow.

“Well, Clint sometimes, but he doesn't count.”

The archer glared and stuck his tongue out, but everyone ignored him. 

“That doesn't change the fact that your elevator’s broken,”

“It's not broken.”

“Then what's wrong with it?”

“It doesn't like you.”

“...Don't make me jump out a window.”

“Do it, I dare y-”

Natasha stood abruptly, silencing them. She menacingly crossed her arms, and the ones closest to her leaned away. 

“Is this going somewhere or are you just purposefully being annoying?”

Peter turned bright red, and Stark frowned at her, before looking at the teen. 

 

“You should fix those here,” He said, and Peter’s eyes widened.

“R-really?” He stammered, hesitant excitement bubbling in his chest, but he tried to push it down. ‘Remember, you hate it here’ he thought to himself. 

Stark smiled. “Yep,” He answered, popping the ‘p’, sliding off the counter and onto his feet. “Let's go down to the lab while Nat is letting us breathe.”

Stark grabbed the boy by the shoulders and hurriedly led him out of the room. 

After the two were gone, Steve looked at Clint with a furrowed brow. “He never lets me into his lab,”

Clint set down the ice pack and shrugged. “I would invite you to go through the vents, but he blocked those off.”

“Because of you,” Natasha added, her face serious but the humor shining in her eyes. 

“Well it's not my fault he decided to put all of his chemicals right under it, how was I supposed to know the second I jump down everything catches fire?” The man winced and picked up the ice pack, putting it tenderly back on his bruising jaw. 

“You're all idiots,” Banner concluded, not looking up from his book.

“But you love us,”

“...Do I? I think tolerate is a better word.”

“Ouch,”

“I'm wounded, Bruce.”

“Don't make me hurt you.”


	8. I Larb You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is a sad boi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gois, GOIS MY GOOGLE DOCS IS 62 PAGES LONG MY FINGERS ARE DYING IM SUPPOSED TO BE IN CERAMICS STUDYING FOR MIDTERMS SEND HALPPPP
> 
> Anyways, I just want y'all to know that I wrote most of this chapter last night at two in the morning, high on adrenaline and coffee and ramen and anxiety so, y'know, may not be the best. at least I enjoyed writing it, right?
> 
> This is my 'hey-sorry-I-was-eaten-by-a-whale-and-couldn't-write-for-a-month-I-dont-deserve-y'all' present!!!!!!!
> 
> Enjoy, don't forget to comment- Oh yeah, funny story. 
> 
> When I was in the whale, I was a sad boi. Almost as sad as Petey this chapter. And then, out of nowhere, three weeks in, I get an email on my whale-apocalypse mobile device.
> 
> I open it, AND LO AND BEHOLD I GOT A COMMENT ON SPIDER-PANCAKES!!!!!
> 
> I stared at that screen, just wondering: ...wat.
> 
> AND HERE WE ARE!!!!! YEEEEEETTTTTTTTTT
> 
> Theme statement here guys: Author likes comments. Comments are as necessary as coffee. And ramen. Plz comment.

“Ummmm, Mr. Stark, I think I should just go home instead. May might be back and… yeah.”

The boy stumbled a bit as he was dragged to the lab by his wrist, but Stark only huffed and glanced back at him.

“No worries, kiddo. I bet you could think of an excuse for Aunt Hottie, teenager are good at those. Anyways, if I remember correctly, women spend hoouurrss shopping, even when they say ‘oh, I'll only be a second,”

The man raised his voice mockingly, and Peter laughed, silently agreeing.

After a few final flights of stairs, Stark let go of his wrist and stood in front of glass sliding doors, his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face.

“Pete, welcome to my man cave. Love of my life. Reason for my existence.

Peters' eyes blew wide as he took in the sight. 

Equipment galore, mechanics heaven, find-a-wrench-and-give-it-wing-and-a-laser-gun, you name it. 

“...holy shit…”

Stark chuckled as he walked forward, the sliding doors parting and a blast of cool air hitting them both.

“That's one way to say it,”

After that, everything was a blur of oil stains, wires, metal, and maybe an explosion or two for Peter.

He had to keep himself from pinching his own forearm to see if this was all real, to see if he really was working in Tony Stark’s lab with Tony Stark’s equipment with The Tony Friggin Stark.

‘Just wait till I tell Ned,’ He smiled to himself, his red and blue-clad form bent over his now working and better than ever webshooters. ‘He. Is. Gonna. Flippppppp.’

“You good there, kid?” Stark asked from the other desk, not bothering to look up from his project.

“No,” Peter replied without hesitating, his voice steady and loud in the mostly quiet room. ‘I will never be ok ever again for the rest of my pathetic life. I'm gonna crave this room and become greedy and a self-centered little shit because you've spoiled me. Thank you for this grand opportunity, who do you want as a sacrifice, oh great one?”

The man froze, turning around fully in his chair to look at Peter wide-eyed, before bursting into laughter, deep and sincere, quickly followed by the teen. 

“Oh man,” he chuckled, rubbing his chest with the heel of his hand once they both managed to calm down. “My eyes have been opened. I will never be satisfied with Bruce as my science bro ever again.”

He paused, furrowing his brow a bit before looking at Peter again, who still had a grin on his face and a slight blush covering his cheeks, though his eyes were anywhere but on Stark.

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” The boy’s coffee-colored eyes lifted to meet his own. He took a deep breath and feigned seriousness. “Would you accept the honor of becoming a science bro?”

They both stood in silence, staring at each other for a long moment, before Peter slowly shook his head in confusion. 

“I have no clue what that is,” He paused before grinning widely, “But sounds like fun.”

The man jumped up, sending his chair flying a few feet, and lifted his hands. 

“Hell yeah!”

He skipped up to Peter, wrapping an arm around his neck, pulling him down and giving the boy a noogie, to which he responded with laughter and false struggle. 

He managed to free himself, and Stark collapsed onto an empty part of Peter’s desk, going lax and exhaling loudly. 

“I'm too old for this shit,”

Peter chuckled, grabbing his webshooters and strapping them onto his wrists. 

“Maybe you should retire before you hurt yourself, fall down the stairs or somethin’.”

Stark lifted his head off the desk and glared, but Peter avoided his gaze, innocently fidgeting and adjusting his webshooters. 

“Don't make me ground you, young man.” The man threatened, and Peter shook his head.

“Too late, old man, I'm already grounded.” 

The moment he finished talking, the smile slid off his face, replaced with panic as realization hit him.

“Shit! Aunt May! I've been gone for hours!”

He scurried to grab his phone and money, putting them into one of the many hidden pockets in his skin-tight suit, before bolting for the door.

“Wait!” Stark yelled, and Peter slid a bit before stopping and whipping around. Stark waved his mask in one hand, the other on his hip. 

“Don't I even get a thank you?”

He let you a small squeak before running back and snatching the mask out of the man's hand. 

“ThankyouMr.StarkforeverythingtelleveryonethanksIgottagonowbyeee!”

And with that, the teen ran out of view, leaving an amused Tony Stark standing in the middle of the lab, a small smile on his lips. 

The smile stayed in place even after he rejoined the others in the living room. 

Clint peered at him through dramatically squinted eyes. “You've gone soft for the kid.” He concluded after Stark sat down on the far end of the couch, facing the TV, which was showing some old movie (probably Steve’s idea(and by probably I mean it was(but don't judge him he's a unique and independent person he can watch what he wants(but we're getting off topic aren't we)))).

Stark ignored him, instead looking around the room. 

“Where's Nat?” He asked. 

“She had to go, got a call from him-whom-we-shall-not-name,” Clint answered, frowning at him before turning his attention to the movie. 

They managed a whole five seconds of silence before Stark spoke again. 

“Do you think she’ll be pissed that she’s not the only spider on the team anymore?” He pondered, and everyone looked up from what they were doing to stare at him. 

“Woah,” Steve narrowed his eyes at him. “Who ever said we were letting the kid on the team? He’s fifteen, for Christ's sake, Tony.”

Bruce nodded, putting his bookmark in place before closing the book and setting it on the coffee table.

“Chill, Cap. I didn't say officially. Just, y’know, we might be seeing him around more often, maybe even fight with him, help him out, let him help.” Stark tried to reason, but all he got was more protests. 

“Tony, Steve’s right. He's just a kid. We should be disencouraging his vigilante activities, not supporting them. He could get himself killed if he's not careful.” Bruce tried calmly. 

Stark snorted and threw his hands in the air defeatedly. “Why does it always end up being my fault? ( ‘because it is,’ Clint muttered) It's not like I'm the one who gave him his freakish powers and that stupid spandex suit and ordered him to jump around New York looking for trouble.”

“You might as well have.” Steve shot back, his posture stiff and defensive. “Besides, we barely know the kid. We don't know what he wants or what his intentions are.”

“He could be a spy,” Clint added, his brow furrowed. 

Stark barked out an incredulous laugh. “Are you kidding me? Do you even hear yourselves right now?”

“It is a possibility, Tony. You've seen what the news says about Spider-Man. He could be acting, trying to gain our trust.”

Tony shook his head, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Peter Parker is NOT a spy, ok? Can you imagine anything even remotely evil coming from that kid?”

The others just stared at him, and he sighed. “Look. like you said, we barely know him. You have nothing to base yourselves on, and until you do, I expect you all to treat him well. This conversation never happened.”  
“I don't think he's bad,” Bruce mumbled quietly.

He rubbed a hand down his face, and the group hesitantly nodded. “Good.” He said, a bit sharper than intended, but oh well. 

He stood from the couch and walked out of the room. 

God, he needed a drink. 

.oO0Oo.

Peter got home without incident, swinging through the (now dark) streets until he reached his building. He eased open his bedroom window, careful of not making a sound, before stumbling inside and closing it again.

All of the lights were turned off, and he quickly shed off his suit and changed into his closest pair of jeans and an oversized yellow hoodie with ‘Midtown High’ across its back, sleeves long enough to only leave his fingertips peeking out.

Barefoot, he crept out of his room and down the dark hallway, twitching at the flashing lights of the TV playing in the other room. 

May was sitting on the couch, staring at the TV, but not really watching. The volume was off, so when the floor creaked under him, she stood and whipped around to face him. 

Their eyes met, and she sighed, slowly taking off her glasses and rubbing her temple, like she always did when she was stressed. 

His hands curled into fists, nails cutting into the soft flesh of his palm. He hated how he did that to her. How much she worried. She didn't need to, but she didn't know that. He’d have to tell her everything, and that was something he wasn't prepared for yet. 

She closed her eyes for a long moment before opening them and staring at him. She seemed… tired, exhausted. 

“You used the fire escape again, didn't you.” It wasn't a question.

His fists tightened, and his gaze dropped in shame. “I d-didn't want to wake you. T-that is, I thought you would have gone to bed, not w-wait for me, and-”

“Peter,” She interrupted softly. He stopped talking, but his eyes continued to burn holes through the floor. 

‘Stupid stutter.’

“Peter, look at me.”

And no matter how much he didn't want to look up and see the disappointment in her eyes, have to lie to her face, his eyes flitted up to meet hers. 

She walked up to him, raising a hand and cupping his cheek. 

She opened her mouth so say something, but all that came out was a breathy laugh and a soft sad smile. 

“It's so hard to say anything when you look like a kicked puppy.”

He didn't respond, just continued to stare up at her. 

“C’mon,” She sighed, leading him to the couch. They sat side by side, Peter with his head bowed, staring at the fists on his lap, and May with a hand on his shoulder. 

She laid a hand on top of his. 

“Stop it, you know how much I hate it.”

Hesitantly, he uncurled his fingers, the color returning to his knuckles and small crescent-shaped cuts appearing. 

He hid them, placing his hands on his legs, palms down. 

“Peter,” She began, staring at the side of his face. He didn't even twitch. “I just want to know- you were gone for a week, Peter. A week, almost two. You didn't even call, and today, two Avengers knock on my door, do you know how scared I was?”

The fists we're back, but she didn't say anything. 

“ ‘m sorry,” He mumbled, his mouth feeling dry.

She smiled softly, her thumb rubbing circles onto his back. 

“On the other hand, it's the Avengers, Peter!” She softly cheered, and he couldn't help but smile.

He saw the resignation on her face. 

He hated himself for it.

“Now, how did you meet them? What happened?”

He turned his head a bit, looking at her from the corner of his eye. 

‘Oh, well remember that fight with Doctor Octopus last week? Yep, that was me, being beaten to a pulp. Dr. Banner just happen to be there, saved my ass, kidnapped me, held me hostage this whole time. UNTIL I punched my way through bulletproof glass and jumped out a seventy-story tall window and made it here! Yay! Oh, by the way, I'm Spider-Man.’

...If only.

“Well,” He began. “T-they… were starting an internship program thing, saw my, um, school record, yep, and, y’know, surprise, I end up working in Tony Stark’s lab, bringing people c-coffee and doing their jobs a-and… stuff.”

She stared at him, eyebrows raised, and he tried not to shrink into the couch. 

Eventually, her skeptical look turned into one of surprise. 

“Wow,” She chuckled, which he copied, only 200x more nervous.

“I knew you were a baby genius, but this?”

“Yep,” He rasped out, feeling his face heat up with shame. More lies. “I'm a special boy.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Well,” she stood, patting his back. “Baby geniuses need their sleep. C’mon, it's late. And don't think I don't know you've skipped school for that internship.”

He grinned up at her cheesily. “I thought I was a genius. I'm so above high school, May, it's shameful.”

She ruffled his hair, reminding him of the people back at the Tower who had done the same, before kissing his forehead and heading off to bed with a ‘don't stay up too late’ thrown over her shoulder.

When she walked out of view, he let the smile fall, feeling the deep pit of despair taking refuge in his stomach. 

He buried his face in his hands, his bangs covering his fingers, and took a shaky breath. 

Then, he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah and RIP Stan. the bomb. the creepy stalker in the corner of everyone's TV screen for the past 15 years we all loved.


	9. Your Stick Hit Me in the Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh. 
> 
>  
> 
> Here's a Daredevil chapter.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ...yay....

The cold night air whipped past him as he free-fell, whistling in his ear loudly as he dove faster and faster toward the concrete below. 

Natives and tourists still out in the late hours looked up, some pointing fingers and gasping as they saw his red and blue-clad form racing towards them.

His eyes burned against the wind, and he closed them, zoning out the sights and sounds of The City That Never Sleeps. 

He had escaped his apartment hours after May had left to go to bed. He spent a good part of the night tossing and turning in bed, guilt and tireless thoughts eating away at him until he could no longer tolerate it, and put on his suit and stumbled out the window, moments away from a panic attack. His mind was too foggy for him to know where he was going, or how long he had been swinging. He wasn't even thinking about that. All he knew was that He Had To Get Away. 

A scream broke him out from his thoughts, and almost on instinct, he shot a web, his arm almost yanking out of its socket at the force and his booted feet skimming the road before shooting back into the air like a rubber band. 

“Sorry! Sorry…” He shouted at the people looking up at him in shock before turning a corner, out of sight.

He raised his gaze to look around, and to his surprise, He couldn't recognize where he was. He stopped his swinging, jumping onto a dark gravel roof and landing in a low crouch. 

“What the…” He mumbled as he straightened himself, walking towards the edge of the building. 

Right before he could look down, his spidey-sense blared, and something whacked him square in the face, knocking him backward. 

“Motherfu-agh! Owowowowow OW!” He cradled his face in his hands, the stinging sensation strong. After a moment more of pain, he carefully lowered a hand and groaned at the spot of blood staining his gloved fingers. 

“Oh, May is gonna kill meeeee…” He rubbed his cheek one last time before straightening, and immediately yelping, jumping backward, losing his footing, and falling right on his butt when he saw the large form lurking over him, covered in dark shadows. 

The lenses of his mask widened as the figure took a step forward, and he scrambled back as quickly as he could, the gravel shifting under him. 

“S-stay back!” He warned, raising a hand to motion the man, the other holding him up shakily.

The figure pause, tilting its head to the side and barely hesitating before taking long strides towards him.

Peter scrambled to pick himself up, the gravel making it hundreds of times harder than it should be. (He had finally found his kryptonite) 

“Stop,” The figure snapped, and Peter froze, looking up.

The man was burly, in a completely red suit of armor, two ‘D’s intertwined on his chest, a chin covered in stubble, but what most alarmed Peter, were the two short pointy horns coming out from the man’s helmet. 

The man reached him and roughly grabbed his arm, pulling him clumsily onto his feet. 

“Owie,” Peter complained. The man just gave him The Look, and he closed his mouth, averting his gaze.

The man still hadn't released his arm from his vice-like grip, but Peter’s spidey-sense was mostly quiet, barely a buzz in the base of his skull, so he didn't react. 

Yet.

There was a long and awkward pause, in which Peter spent waiting for the other to say something, his heart beating erratically. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

“A’ight, why do I feel like I'm about to be lectured? Sorry, but my speech limit has already been reached for today, so maybe I can get a rain check on that, we could get some coffee, I know this great place that sells the best hot do-”

The grip on his arm tightened even more, if possible, and he let out a squeak, his rambling put to an end. That’ll leave a bruise.

“Fine,” He panted. “No hot dogs.”

“You're scared,” The man mumbled, his voice rough and low. Peter tensed even more and tried to jerk his arm away, but didn't succeed. 

“W-what do you want?” Peter stuttered, his voice not as strong as he hoped.

“If I let go, would you run?” The man asked, his voice louder than before.

“Depends,” Peter started, letting out a shaky laugh. “Will you try to eat me? C-cuz that's what it feels like right now, and let me tell you being eaten is NOT a fun experience. You wanna know how I know? So, one day I was at-”

Suddenly, his arm was released, and he stumbled back, almost falling again. He rubbed his sore arm and hesitantly looked up.

The man hadn't moved, just bowed his head and balled his hands into fists, staying impossibly still. 

“You were crying,” He spoke up, startling Peter.

“Great w-way of starting this conversation. How a- how about we be normal people instead? Well, normal people dressed ridiculously, but still. Hi! My name’s Spidey-Man, what's yours?”

The man let out an amused sort of huff, barely shaking his head. 

Peter wasn't expecting an answer, so when the man spoke, he startled.

“Daredevil. At least… that's what people call me.”

“O-oh,” Peter looked around awkwardly. This dude was weird.

“...pretty badass if you ask me...” He mentally slapped himself, and even though Daredevil was wearing a mask, he could almost see the eyebrow raised. 

“...n-not that you did. ask me, I mean. I just meant that- well, your name. It's uh, cool. Cuz y’know, you're like the devil, and I'm just a spider and...ok.” 

He could feel his face heat up under his own mask as Daredevil chuckled. This time, when the man took a step toward him, he didn't move away.

A long tense silence passed.

“...you're bleeding.”

“You slapped me in the face with a stick.”

“Yeah, guess I did.”

“I don't forgive you, by the way.”

“I didn't ask you to.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“...”

“...”

“What are you doing out here? I thought Queens was your territory.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at the man.

“Ok, first of all? I am not a dog, I don't have a territory. Second, you'll have to be a bit more specific as to where ‘here’ is.”

Daredevil stared at him incredulously. “...You don't know where you are.”

Peter rolled his eyes at the man. “Of course I do, I'm just asking for the fun of it. To see if YOU know where we are.”

“You're in Hell’s Kitchen, kid.” Daredevil said, tilting his head a bit to the side and pointing behind him. “You came from over there.” Peter froze.

“...Did I cross a bridge? I don't remember. What time is it?” He dug around his suit for his phone pocket, groaning when he remembered he had left it charging back home. 

“Past your bedtime, that's for sure.”

Peter looked up at him, brows furrowed. “ ‘m not a kid.”

Daredevil smirked at him, and Peter felt irritation bubble up in his chest. 

“Mhm,” The man hummed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Look, kid. Why don't you go home, get some sleep. It's a school night, and your parents are probably worried.”

Peter’s hands balled into fists as he felt his chest constrict. “I said I'm Not. A. Kid! You have no right to say any of those things to me. Not you, not the Avengers, not anybody!”

His breath hitched. His spidey-sense went off, but something was different. It was strong, but… far away?

He turned from Daredevil, who was trying to ask him what was wrong, and frantically looked around, looking for anything that could be wrong. Dread was a growing pit in his stomach. 

His instincts told him to run, and that's what he did, running up to the edge of the building. He was about to jump, but a strong hand wrapped around his arm, whipping him around to face Daredevil, who immediately grabbed his shoulders and shook him a bit.

“Spider-Man, What's wrong? What's happening?”

Peter stared helplessly at the man, his eyes wide. 

“I-I, I don't- I can't- I have to get h-home,”

Daredevil hesitated a second before nodding. “I'm coming with you.” He said, but Peter wasn't listening, as he jumped off the roof and shot a web, swinging faster than he ever thought possible.

Buildings passed in a blur, but time was too slow. His limbs were too heavy. He wasn't going fast enough.

As he got closer, the buzz at the base of his neck increased to a painful blaring, now telling him to leave, to run away, but he couldn't. Something was terribly wrong.

As he got closer, he saw smoke rising from a part of the city. HIS part. 

Fear gripped him in a death-lock, adrenaline raced through his veins as he got closer. 

May was in trouble. May was in trouble.

It was his apartment building that was on fire. People were crowding the streets, fire trucks and police cars carelessly parked around the building. It was a flurry of activity and flames, but Peter didn't care. 

May was in there. 

He had to get her out.

Get her out.

He slammed onto the side of the building hard, not caring for any injuries or burns as he crawled up and through a window.

The only thing he could see was smoke, tinted red, yellow, and orange. It filled his lungs as he ran through the halls, directly toward their apartment. 

“MAY!” He screamed, flames licking at his limbs and singing his suit, burning his skin. 

He didn't care.

Finally reaching their door, he slammed into it, sending it flying inside. The flames were the worst in here. He could see nothing. He coughed, trying to get air into his lungs. Black dots littered his vision. 

“MAY!” His voice cracked. He ran into the hallway and into her room. 

She wasn't there.

Her bed was completely in flames, as were the walls. A piece of the ceiling fell, and he barely managed to dodge it as it blocked his view of the room. Of May’s room.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he froze. May wasn't there. Where was she?

Another coughing fit caught him by surprise and had him doubling over, falling to his knees as his lungs filled with smoke. He needed air.

Not without May. 

Unsteadily, he tried to stand, his knees like rubber beneath him. Stumbling to his room, he slammed open the door, falling against the doorframe. 

“M-may…” He rasped, looking around for his aunt.

She wasn't there.

He started coughing again, gagging, his body trying to take in oxygen that wasn't there. 

His window shattered open, and he flinched, falling to the ground. 

Strong arms wrapped around his waist, lifting him. 

His mind was numb. Why was it numb? Where was May? Was she… no. she couldn't be. She was fine when he left, wasn't she?

The arms rushed him toward the open window, pushing him out and onto the fire escape. 

He tried to protest, to go back, find May, but his voice wouldn't work. His limbs were stiff and heavy. So heavy. 

He was lifted again, an arm under his back and the other on the backs of his knees.

His eyes were open, but everything was a blur, like it wasn't really there. What if it wasn't? What if this was all just a dream? He could wake up. May would walk into his room any second now to tell him to get ready for school.

His back hit the cold concrete ground, and someone was hovering over him, trying to get his attention. 

He closed his eyes. The ground was cold and wet, soothing the burns on his back. He wished he could melt into it. 

Something cold splashed his face, and his eyes shot open, more focused, and just in time to see Daredevils hand go to the top of his head and pull off his mask.

His heart skipped a beat and he tensed, but the man put a comforting hand on his cheek, shushing him gently.

“Shhh, you're ok. You're gonna be fine.” His voice was soft, softer than he had heard it, and now, it seemed familiar. As if he had talked to the man before. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except for harsh coughs that had more tears pooling in his eyes. 

Exhausting washed over him suddenly, and the tears finally fell. He closed his eyes tight, pain overcoming his battered and burnt body. 

The last thing that went through his mind before the darkness swallowed him whole, was,

 

 

I love you, May.


	10. Claire Temple is a Goddess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeeetttttttttttt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, guysguygUYS OHMYGOD WHAT IS THIS?!?!?!!?!?! AN EXTREMELY SHORT CHAPTER NO ONE ASKED FOR?!?!?! DING DING DING!!!! yeet. GOIS I THINK IM HIGH ON COFFEE AND OXYGEN AND ARGHDIFBUIEBUIDISDJSLDJSKLBOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
> 
>  
> 
> i dont know what im doing.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> send halp.

Consciousness came slowly to Peter. His mind was foggy. Slow. 

Where was he? 

Everything felt as if he was underwater. Miles and miles deep, the pressure crushing him, the water filling his lungs, his eyes, his ears.

The next thing to come was his hearing. 

There were voices. Two, or three maybe. He tried to focus on them and what they were saying, but they kept going in and out of focus.

“-et me equipment! It's right across the st-”

“-e boy’s injured, Claire. We need t-”

“-on’t care! Now leave befo-”

It took him a few seconds, but he recognized one of the voices as Daredevil. The other was a woman’s voice he didn't recognize.

Before he could ponder it any longer, the next thing that came back to him was feeling. aka pain. Lots of it. 

A migraine pounded behind his temples, threatening to split his skull in half. Every part of his body felt on fire. 

Was he on fire? Very possible at the moment. 

The bed he was on was ridiculously soft, yet it grated on his flesh, every movement sending flares of pain through his body.

A whimper escaped his lips and the voices abruptly stopped. 

A hand hesitantly touched his shoulder and he gasped in pain, jerking away. It was hot, searing, too much. 

He wanted it to stop.

There was a prick on the inside of his elbow, and the pain quelled a bit. It became bearable. 

“-ey, can you hear me? Spidey! Open your eyes for me. C'mon, kid. You can do it.”

That was the thing he LEAST wanted to do at the moment, but the woman’s voice was soft, kind, inviting, and for some reason, he didn't want to disappoint her. 

With effort, he pried his eyelids open, a bright light turning on and shining harshly right into them, and he flinched away, squinting, but not closing them. 

“Sorry, sorry,” The woman said gently, turning off her light and pocketing it. “Had to be done.”

Her hands went into a bowl by his bed and took out a wet towel with which she covered his forehead, sitting on the edge of the bed and comfortingly running a hand through his hair. 

“It's ok, you're ok.” She whispered to him.

Peter peered up at her. She had dark hair, dark skin, and kind, dark brown eyes. Her hair was put up into a messy bun, and she had dark circles under her eyes. 

He opened his mouth to talk, but when he tried, pain flared in his sore throat, and he winced. The lady shushed him, shaking her head slightly. 

“You inhaled a lot of smoke. I know you have questions, but you shouldn't talk yet, ok?”

Hesitantly he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. 

They stared at each other for a moment. Pain and fear in Peters coffee-colored eyes, and sadness and anger in her dark ones. The anger wasn't toward Peter, never toward a child. No. the anger was for the people who had done this, the people who had let a child rush into a possibly fatal situation and get injured this badly. 

She reached behind Peter’s head where he couldn't see, no matter how hard he tried, and her hands came back with a syringe filled with a clear liquid. 

“I need you to answer a few questions, Spidey, so either nod or shake your head, or if it hurts too much, blink once for yes, twice for no, Ok?”

He nodded, wincing when pain shot up his neck, then blinked once. She smiled softly at him. 

“Good.” Her eyes flitted to the syringe in her hands, then back to him. 

“Are you a mutant?” She asked. Peter paused, for a moment, not expecting that question, before slowly blinking once. 

She nodded. “Good. Now. I heard that you have an enhanced metabolism, enhanced healing, is that true?”

He blinked again.

“Alright,” She said, her brows furrowing a bit. “We’ll have to up your dosage quite a bit, then.”

She set the syringe back down and flipped the towel on his forehead. 

“You're young, right?” She asked suddenly, and Peter blanched, looking away from her for the first time. 

“Hey, no, it's alright. No judgment here. Pretty sure Ma- Daredevil was like a super secret ninja at birth, kicking bad guy ass around the hospital, so this is nothing.”

Peter couldn't help but smile at that. 

A yawn caught him by surprise, and he winced at how it pulled at his sore throat and neck. 

She smiled at him again and pat his forehead gently.

“Why don't you get some sleep, hm? You're gonna need it.”

He nodded slightly, watching her with what he hoped was a grateful expression.

She ran her fingers through his curls again, and he closed his eyes, focusing on the repetitive action instead of the pain.

He welcomed the darkness soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think... guys... plz help. I'm a poor boi with a sad life and apparently I have to actually socialize now and I CANT DO DIS AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH
> 
> Please comment. comments are nice. I hold them all close to my heart, no matter how short or long.
> 
>  
> 
> Edit 11-26-18: Guys, I found this and feel obligated to share with the world, so here you go. You can thank me later.  
> See them in person: https://www.earthlymission.com/the-best-text-emoticons-for-you-to-copy-paste/
> 
>  
> 
> ..Cuz Im just that cool of an uncultured swine
> 
> get on my level  
> ˢᵂᴵᴳᴳᴵᵀᵞ  
> 　 ∧_∧  
> 　 ( ･∀･)  
> 　⊂ ⊂　)  
> 　　 ( ( (　  
> 　　(_(＿)
> 
> ˢᵂᴼᴼᵀᵞ  
> 　　 ∧_∧  
> 　　　 　　( ･∀･)  
> 　　　 　 ( Ｕ つ  
> 　 　 ) ) )  
> (＿)_)  
> ᴵ’ᴹ  
> ∧_∧　　  
> （ ･∀･)  
> ⊂_へ　つ  
> 　(＿)｜  
> 彡　(＿)
> 
> ᶜᴼᴹᴵᴺᴳ  
> ∧_∧　　  
> (･_･)っ  
> (っ /  
> ᴸﾉ┘  
> ᶠᴼᴿ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ  
> 　 ∧___∧  
> ⊂(・＿・ )  
> 　ヽ ⊂二/  
> 　(⌒) /
> 
> Booty.  
> ／　　　　　　　 ＼  
> |　　●　　　　● |  
> ＼　 ___  
> (•_•)  
> <) )╯ ᵂᴴᴱᴺ ᵞᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᵞ  
> / \
> 
> ( •_•)  
> ᶜᴼᴹᴱ ᴬᴺᴰ ᴳᴱᵀ ᴵᵀ  
> / \
> 
> (•_•)  
> ~( )~ ᴺᴬ ᴺᴬ ᴺᴬ ᴺᴬ  
> / \”
> 
> (•_•)  
> ᴼᴺ ᵀᴴᴱ ᶜᴸᴼᶜᴷ ᴳᴱᵀ  
> / \
> 
> (•_•)/  
> ᵞᴼᵁᴿ ᴸᴱᴬᵛᴵᴺᴳ?  
> / \
> 
> (•_•)  
> ᵀᴴᴱᴺ  
> / \
> 
> (•_•)  
> ᴮᵞᴱ  
> / \
> 
> \\(•_•)  
> ( . (> ˢᴼ ᴵ’ᴹ ᴸᴵᴷᴱ  
> / \  
> (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻ ᶠᴸᴵᴾ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᵀᴬᴮᴸᴱ.
> 
> ┻━┻ ︵ ヽ(°□°ヽ) ᶠᴸᴵᴾ ᵀᴴᴵˢ ᵀᴬᴮᴸᴱ.
> 
> ┻━┻ ︵ ＼(`0`)/／ ︵ ┻━┻ ᶠᴸᴵᴾ ᴬᴸᴸ ᵀᴴᴱ ᵀᴬᴮᴸᴱˢ
> 
> ಠ_ಠ ᶜᴴᴵᴸᴰ. . .
> 
> ಠ_ಠ ᴾᵁᵀ.
> 
> ಠ__ಠ ᵀᴴᴱ ᵀᴬᴮᴸᴱˢ.
> 
> ಠ___ಠ ᴮᴬᶜᴷ.
> 
> (╮°-°)╮┳━┳
> 
> (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻ ᴺᴱᵛᴱᴿ
> 
> (•_•)  
> <) )╯ᴮᴱᶜᴬᵁˢᴱ ᴵ'ᴹ  
> / \
> 
> ⊂_ヽ  
> 　 ＼＼ ＿  
> 　　 ＼(　•_•) ᶠ  
> 　　　 <　⌒ヽ ᴬ  
> 　　　/ 　 へ＼ ᴮ  
> 　　 /　　/　＼＼ ᵁ  
> 　　 ﾚ　ノ　　 ヽ_つ ᴸ  
> 　　/　/ ᴼ  
> 　 /　/| ᵁ  
> 　(　(ヽ ˢ  
> 　|　|、＼  
> 　| 丿 ＼ ⌒)  
> 　| |　　) /  
> `ノ )　 ᴸﾉ  
> (_／
> 
>  
> 
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨☁️✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨☁️✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨☁️✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨☁️✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨☁️✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨☁️✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨☁️✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨☁️✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨⬛️⬛️☁️⬛️⬛️✨✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨⬛️🅰️☁️🅰️⬛️✨✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨⬛️🅰️🅰️☁️🅰️🅰️⬛️✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨⬛️⬛️⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️☁️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️⬛️⬛️✨✨✨  
> ✨⬛️⬛️🚹🚹🚹🚹🅰️🅰️☁️🅰️🅰️🚹🚹🚹🚹⬛️⬛️✨  
> ⬛️🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹⬛️⬛️☁️⬛️⬛️🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹⬛️  
> ⬛️🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹⬛️✨✨☁️✨✨⬛️🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹⬛️  
> ✨⬛️🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹⬛️⬛️☁️⬛️⬛️🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹⬛️✨  
> ✨✨⬛️🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹☁️🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹⬛️✨✨  
> ✨✨✨⬛️🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹☁️🚹🚹🚹🚹🚹⬛️✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️☁️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️☁️⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️🅰️⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️✨✨✨  
> ✨✨⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️🅰️⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️✨✨  
> ✨✨⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️✨✨  
> ✨⬛️🅰️🅰️🚹⬛️🚹🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🚹⬛️🚹🅰️🅰️⬛️✨  
> ⬛️🅰️🅰️🚹⬛️🚹🅰️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️🅰️🚹⬛️🚹🅰️🅰️⬛️  
> ⬛️🅰️🚹⬛️🅰️🅰️⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️🅰️🅰️⬛️🚹🅰️⬛️  
> ⬛️🅰️⬛️🅰️🅰️⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️🅰️🅰️⬛️🅰️⬛️  
> ⬛️🅰️⬛️🅰️⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️🅰️⬛️🅰️⬛️  
> ✨⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️✨  
> ✨✨✨✨⬛️🅰️🅰️⬛️⬛️🅰️⬛️⬛️🅰️🅰️⬛️✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨⬛️🅰️⬛️☁️⬛️🅰️⬛️☁️⬛️🅰️⬛️✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨⬛️🅰️⬛️☁️⬛️🅰️⬛️☁️⬛️🅰️⬛️✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨⬛️🅰️⬛️⬛️⬛️🅰️⬛️⬛️⬛️🅰️⬛️✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨⬛️🅰️⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️🅰️⬛️✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨⬛️⬛️🅰️🅰️🅰️⬛️⬛️✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨⬛️⬛️⬛️✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨  
> ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨


	11. A Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siiiiiggghhhh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, it's Friday. School hasn't even started yet and I've already spelled my name wrong twice. If I die, bury me with with my Netflix and a lifetime supply of ramen.
> 
> Thx broskis. 
> 
> Y'all the best.

~~~~~~~.oO0Oo.~~~~~~~

Smoke  
Fire  
Burning  
May  
She's not here

Heart pounding

Where is she

Head pounding

She's not here  
Smoke  
Fire  
Burning  
May

Fear  
Dread  
May  
Gone  
Gone. Gone. Gone Gone GonegonegonegOnEgOnEgONEGỠ̶͙̟͕̥͖̜͔̈̇̑̾̏̓͒̚͝NE̴̢̞͎̞̰͖̍̔̋̆̾͠GǪ̴̨͖̱̫̺̰̫̠͍̖̜͙̘̂̏͐̽̏̉̾͘͝͝N̸̜̳͓̝̜͔͈̅̋̅͊͌͐̊͋͐̚̚Ę̴̡̡̧̠̦͔̮̩̣̮͎̥̈́͜G̵̢̛̲̻̈́̋͆̃̀O̵͇̮̩̫͑̑̂̈͂N̷̺͉̬̫͕̰͐́E̷̲̰̟̓̎̌͝---

~~~~~~~.oO0Oo.~~~~~~~

Peter shot up with a shaky gasp, eyes wide and filled with tears, thin blankets falling off his legs and onto the floor.

His heart pounded in his ribcage, echoing in his ears. 

“M-may!” He cried weakly. 

His mind was filled with fog. Where was he? Where was May? What happened?

Loud footsteps approached, louder than they had any right to be. He covered his sensitive ears, which were ringing, with his hands and curled in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest as tears continued to run down his cheeks. 

Hands touched him, pulling at his arms.

People were shouting right in his ear, adding to his migraine.

“Stop!” He sobbed weakly, and though it came out more like ‘sop’, the movement around him quieted, almost stilled. 

He could hear breathing. Soft pants, different from his hiccuping gasps. Heartbeats, too. Calm and collected, while his beat erratically in his chest. 

Hesitant fingers found their way into his hair, and he flinched, but they continued, pulling his hair back from his face. 

The motion was familiar for some reason, and he leaned into the touch, letting his heart rate go down to a more bearable level and the ringing in his ears decrease, though the fog and confusion stayed.

After taking a few moments to collect himself, he opened his eyes, and immediately jumped back. 

A man with stubble along his chin, brown hair, and sunglasses retracted his hand from the boy's head as if he had been burnt, and stepped away from the edge of the bed. 

“What are you doing?!” Peter panicked, pulling away from the man.

“I don't know!” He responded, running a hand through his hair. “She said it calmed you down!”

“Whose ‘she’!?” Peter’s glazed eyes flitted behind the man and around the room.

“Will you stop shouting?!” He got as an answer, and Peter paused, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

WHICH was apparently the wrong thing to do, because immediately, flashes of fire and smoke appeared in his vision, and he gasped, his eyes shooting open and his heart leaping to his throat.

“May! Where's May!?” He cried, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

The man stopped him immediately, wrapping his arms around the teen and pushing him back into the bed. 

Peter struggled and squirmed, sending them both to the ground in a pile of disoriented limbs. 

This continued for another moment or two until a voice interrupted them.

“What the hell are you doing?! Matt, you're hurting him!”

The two stopped and sat up, looking over the bed to see a dark-skinned woman with her hands on her hips and an angry expression on her face.

“I'm hurting him? Claire, What about me?! The kid’s got a helluva kick…” His voiced faded into silence at the glare the woman- Claire, apparently - shot him, and he cleared his throat, picking up his sunglasses and putting them back on his face. 

Peter picked himself up, swaying when his head spun. The man stood and helped balance him, sitting him down on the bed.

“I can't- I have to- May, w-we have to find-” He tried to protest, pushing the man away and trying to stand, but Claire put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down. 

“Calm down, you're not going anywhere, kid.” She sighed. “Now lay back down before you kill yourself.”

He stared up at her and obliged for now, scooting back onto the bed and leaning back till his head touched the headboard. 

“Where am I? Did you find her?” He asked, watching the two with hazy pleading eyes, but he went ignored as the lady grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him out of the room.

They stopped a few feet away from the door and spoke in whispers.

“What happened, how long has he been awake, and whose that ‘May’ person?” She questioned.

“I'm pretty sure he woke up from a nightmare, so he wasn't really… here, if you know what I mean. He panicked.” This silenced the woman, and he continued.

“You just walked in about a minute after, and I don't know who May is, but he was looking for her in the fire. There was no one there, though.”

Peters heart stuttered at the mention of the fire, and the man stopped talking.

In a lower voice Peter had to strain to hear, the man mumbled under his breath,

“He's listening,”

Peter flinched.

The two walked back in and Peter stared at them with wide eyes.

“ ‘m sorry,” He whimpered, sinking into the mattress below him. His words slurred together and his mind was a jumbled mess, keeping him from thinking straight. Almost as if he had been drugged.

Had he been?

The two adults shared a look before turning back to him.

The lady walked up to the bed and felt his forehead with the back of her hand. After a moment, she hummed and the hand dropped to her side again. 

“He's got a high fever. Wouldn't be surprised if he was delirious at this point.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Are you?” She asked, and Peter blinked.

“Uuuhhh…” His brows furrowed a bit. “I...don't think so…?”

The man snorted and joined them, sitting at the end of the bed by Peters feet. 

The teen curled in on himself.

“What do you remember, kid?”

Peter tried to think back to how he had gotten there, but all he could see was smoke, fire, burning, and no May. Nothing was clear, like the nightmare. It wasn't what was going on that scared him, because nothing was really going on. It was just the feeling of being terrified, adrenaline racing through his veins, the inability to breathe, the heat. The fact that Maywasn’tthereandwhereisshefindherfindherandwhatifit’stoolatewhatifshe’sde-

“Kid!”

A voice shouted right by his ear, pulling him from his thoughts with a start. He swore his heart was gonna beat right out of his chest.

“S-sorry, um, wha-what was the question?”

The two shared another look. They seemed to do that a lot. Huh. 

“Do you remember anything? What happened, what you were doing before you woke up here?”

Peter hesitated a second before jerkily shaking his head.

The man pursed his lips and looked away, and the women nodded slightly. 

Peter’s gaze flickered between the two, eyes unfocused and glazed over.

“U-um, I have- I have to g-get home, what if May’s back, I need to-”

He cut off abruptly, and the two adults looked at him.

“What is it?” The man asked, and Peter shook his head.

I don't- something feels… wrong… I can't explain…” His voice faded, and the woman’s worry was clear in her voice.

“Kid? C'mon, what's happening-” She cut off with a surprised sound as the boy's eyes rolled back and he fell limp on the pillows below. 

The two stared at the boy in shock, then at each other.

“...Is he alive?” Matt asked hesitantly, and Claire put two fingers on his neck, sighing in relief when she felt the familiar pulse under her fingertips, though it was a bit too fast for her likings.

“He's only unconscious,” She answered, and he nodded, looking over at the teen with an unreadable expression.

Silence settled over them as they watched the boy's chest rise and fall slightly.

Claire was about to move to the other side of the bed to grab her medical kit when Matt spoke. 

“He's just a kid,” He said, his voice quiet.

“Matthew,” She chided, and he turned to her. “Don't start with that- that angsty, mysterious, moody thing you do. It's exasperating.”

His lips quirked upwards and he released some tension from his body, relaxing into the bed by the boy's booted feet.

“C'mon, Claire. Even you, cold-hearted nurse stabbing minors with needles mercilessly after they show up in your ER, gotta admit he's… well, look at him,”

And she did, turning away from Matt to watch the boy's peaceful expression, one of youth and innocence, and then running her gaze over his suit. 

Spider-Man. This boy, a child, is Spider-Man. The vigilante from Queens, trying to protect his city as an onslaught of hate and sometimes even physical attacks try to keep him down. This young boy has risked his life for strangers, people who sometimes didn't deserve to be saved. He put others ahead of himself. But that's not how it should have been. He should be at home with his overprotective parents playing video games, doing his homework, and worrying about girls, not lying in Daredevils bed, delirious with fever, burns covering his body (though, miraculously, those had started to heal a while ago), and unable to stay conscious for more than a few minutes at a time. 

So, yeah. She was worried. 

She turned back to Matt and he raised both brows expectantly.

She rolled her eyes and walked around the bed, shoving her equipment into her medical kit and closing it. 

“Just-” She cut herself off and sighed, her back turned to him. “Take care of him, Matthew.”

And with that, she grabbed her case and walked out of the room and made her way to the front door. 

In the other room, Matt smirked.

“I knew there was a heart in there somewhere!” He hollered out to her. 

The front door slammed shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yeah. For one of my classes, my teacher is like 'k y'all, I know none of ya gots no friends or an idea of what a social life is, so ima force you to.' and so, she said that we need to find someone from far away to like talk to and stuff. we asked 'k, but...how?' and she goes 'bish why u askin me go figure it out yourself.' and I dunno this is either the worst idea I've ever had or the best but y'know hi how are you good? that's good...
> 
>  
> 
> ...yep...


	12. Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WHOOOOOOOOOO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUP Y'ALL!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> omigod guys, so yesterday I watched Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse, and it was AMAZING OH MY GOD I CAN'T EVEN AGSGBHKVHKVDAVHKVHDFYHSAKDHAKJNKALSJB
> 
> Anyways, glad to be back. yep. ok.

The first thing that went through Peter’s mind when he gained consciousness (again, ugh. He needs a life) was ‘I hope May made pancakes cuz she knows I luv mah pancakes.’

Groggily, he opened his eyes and looked around, eyeing his smelly and scorched Spider-Man suit, then the bland room. NOT his room. 

His heart stuttered for a second in panic before it came back to him.

Ah yes, he had forgotten about the shady dude with the sunglasses and the nice lady.

In finding himself alone, he pushed himself into a seated position and stretched his limbs, his shoulder giving a satisfying ‘pop’.

The only window in the room was covered with a grey curtain, but he could see light trying to slither its way into the dark room. That meant it was daytime, and he had slept the whole night.

Silently and sorely, he swung his legs off the side of the bed and pushed himself to his feet. His head spun and he had to hold himself up, but only for a second while he found his balance.

He tiptoed his way to the door and opened it just enough so he could see. 

The room was huge, but minimalist, with a small kitchen toward the back and a couch in the middle, along with a coffee table and a couple of chairs. The wall had two huge windows, showing a view of… a wall. How entertaining. By the kitchen counter, a small wooden table with three chairs surrounding it, and in one of the chairs, the same man as before. 

Peter squinted his eyes and cracked the door open a bit more. This man looked really familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it. 

He had his hands on a black box, what Peter guessed was a radio, but the volume was way down so all he could hear was murmuring. If that's all Peter could hear with his enhanced hearing, though, that meant that the man probably couldn't hear it at all. 

After a moment, the man frowned and rubbed his temples with both hands, and Peter took that as his cue to leave. Maybe the window he saw was unlocked. 

He leaned back and took a cautious step backward. He was in the act of closing the door when the man's voice made him jump, accidentally slamming the door the rest of the way closed. 

“You can come out, you know. You're not my prisoner.” Peter opened the door again and poked his head out, hiding his suit and watching warily as the man leaned back and adjusted his glasses.

The stranger turned off the radio and raised an eyebrow in his direction, and Peter finally opened the door all the way, stepping out into the large room. 

None of them spoke for a few moments, Peter shuffling his booted feet and the man scratching the back of his neck.

“What's your name kid?” He asked, and Peter flinched.

“I was raised well, I don't talk to strangers,” He tried stubbornly, hoping the other man would ignore the way his voice wavered.

The only response he got was a scoff as the man rubbed a hand over his face. Peter could tell he was at his wits end. 

“Kid,” He sighed. “What. Is. Your. Name.”

Peter dropped his gaze and shifted his weight.

“P-peter. Parker,” He answered quietly.

The man nodded slowly, and Peter bowed his head, letting his bangs fall into his face and hide his eyes. 

“You haven't told me your name yet,” Peter said softly, and the man tensed a bit, a weird expression clouding over his face. 

“Matthew Murdock. We've met.”

And Peter could have slapped himself for not recognizing the man earlier. The stubble, the gruff voice, the blindness for gods sake. 

“O-oh, right. I remember.” He looked up. “So you're Daredevil… right?” Peter tilted his head as he waited for an answer, and jumped when Murdock stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor loudly. 

“...Sure, kid.”

Peter watched as he walked around the kitchen counter and grabbed a small flip phone. 

“You got someone I can call? Your parents must be worried,”

Peter hesitated before shaking his head. “Just M-May, but-” His breath hitched and he exhaled shakily. “I-I couldn't find her.”

He paused for a moment before looking up at the man, eyes glossy yet hopeful. 

“D-did you find her? Did she get out alright, was she hurt, do you kno-”

He flinched and shut his mouth when Murdock slammed his fist on the counter, his lips pursed and face twisted in what Peter could only describe as pain. 

His gut twisted in despair. 

“Ki- Peter, May Parker is… well, she’s dead.”

He blinked.

The first thing that went through Peter’s mind was ‘wow, this guy must suck with kids,’ then it hit him, and his mind went blank. 

His brain couldn't process the words, and he continued to stare at Murdock with a blank expression. 

He opened and closed his mouth several times, but it was as if the air had been knocked out of him. 

After a few more tries, he managed to choke out, “w-what?”

The man shook his head, regret clear on his face as he slowly walked back to the radio and picked up a few pieces of paper Peter had missed. 

“I had my partner pull up the casualties of your apartment fire last night, and five people didn't make it out. One of them was a-” He paused, glancing at the paper in his hand for a second before his head turned again to the boy. “-‘May Reilly Parker’. I'm sorry.”

Suddenly, the world was too quiet, the only sound being their heartbeats and breathing. No, not theirs, only Murdock’s. Peter’s breathing had stopped along with his entire world. 

He felt oddly numb, as if he wasn't really there. Maybe he wasn't. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. May wasn't- she wasn't. Couldn't be. She wouldn't leave him, not after his parents did. Not after Uncle Ben did. Not like that. Never like that. 

No, he decided. She wasn't gone. Murdock was playing a sick, sick game, and Peter wanted no part of it. 

His bottom lip began to quiver as he tried to speak, to yell at the man who thought telling a fifteen-year-old boy that his only living relative was gone was acceptable, but a hand reflexively shot to his mouth as he felt bile rise up his throat. 

His eyes widened and he ran to the small trash can by the kitchen counter before gagging, attempting to keep the sick inside of his body, and failing miserably. 

His eyes watered slightly as acid burned his throat, but he continued to heave into the small basket.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Murdock by his side, hovering awkwardly with his hands outstretched, wondering if it was ok to touch the trembling boy or no.

A hand cautiously touched his back and he flinched violently. The hand left. 

He hyperventilated into the can, eyes wide and full of tears. 

The tears wouldn't fall. 

He wouldn't cry. He probably couldn't if he tried. It was as if he wasn't in his own body, he was somewhere else, watching a boy he didn't know fall apart on a strangers floor.

He shook his head, spitting out the remaining vomit from his mouth once he could kinda sorta breathe, and sat back on his haunches.

The man was sitting beside him, cross-legged on the floor and his head bowed down. 

No matter how hard he tried, his mind avoided May at all costs. Well, that was a lie. Maybe it was Peter avoiding the thought of May. He didn't want to believe. 

This man was so sure.

Peter didn't want to believe. 

He just couldn't.

He blinked at his hands, which were resting on his knees. A wave of exhaustion rose in him and he slumped. 

He wouldn't believe. 

He wouldn't think about it. 

He couldn't. 

He would break.

He inhaled shakily and closed his eyes, taking a moment to collect himself.

Thinking of Not May.

After a moment, he opened them again and looked at Murdock. 

He smiled. 

“S-sorry, Mr. Murdock. I can- I can clean t-this up.” He ignored the way his raw voice grated against his throat and his stutter returned full force.

Murdock gaped at him, mouth hanging open and all. He stared. 

“...Peter-”

“No no!” Peter interrupted, jumping to his feet and picking up the trash bin, wrinkling his nose at the stench. “I-I insist. I just vomited all over y-your… oh sweetmotherofjesus that stinks.”

Their eyes met, and even though Matthew was blind, he could almost sense the hollowness and emptiness of the teen in front of him. 

“Peter,” He tried again, more stern this time, but Peter moved away and toward the front door. 

“D-don't worry,” The boy laughed. “I-I’m not g-going anywhere.” He paused. “Where w-would I even g-go, amiright?” He shot the man a smirk, even though he knew he couldn't see it, before turning the corner. 

Matt watched the boy leave with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. 

A second passed before the boy rushed back in, setting down the bin and looking up at Murdock. 

“I… I d-don't suppose you would have any n-normal clothes lying a-around, would ya? Can’t r-really walk out l-like this.” The boy giggled and looked down at his red and blue suit. 

Matt nodded slowly, disbelieving.

“...in your room, the drawer…”

Peter thanked him before rushing into the room and closing the door. 

Matt choked on air, his eye glued on the door the boy had disappeared through.

Logically, he knew- ok. You know what? Screw logic. Matt was 102% sure the kid just went crazy in his apartment, and he just stood there like a moron doing nothing. 

Why had he been so blunt?

He could have at least TRIED to soften the blow, but nooooo~, instead he drove the kid to insanity.

How he wished Claire was still here. 

He could call her, she was way better with the kid anyway, but… [enter lame excuses here. No limit. Matt was an idiot. He's a strong independent woman who can handle things without a strong independent woman to help him. Or at least that's what he thought.]

He walked to the sink and grabbed a glass, filling it with tap water. 

What was he going to do now? He couldn't support himself and the kid at the same time, but he wasn't just going to abandon him. He shouldn't have approached him in the first place. He knew the boy could take care of himself, but he just wanted to make sure. Wanted to try to protect him as much as he could. Or was he just selfish? Either way, he couldn't leave the child to fend for himself, that much was certain. 

He pulled his glass away from the running water and turned off the faucet. 

From the moment they ran into each other (literally), Matthew knew that Spider-Man was a child. An innocent, selfless child with no self preservation skills trying to fight all the corruption and evil of his city. Trying to save the world all by himself.

He took a sip of water, setting the glass down and glancing toward the door again. It had been a few minutes since the boy had run off, what was taking him so long?

He walked up to the door and opened it gently, peeking his head inside.

A silent “Oh,” escaped his lips.

The clothes from the drawer had been bunched up and thrown to the other side of the room, on the floor under the window, and the boy himself was laid down on the bed over the covers, his knees to his chest and his arm's curled around himself. He was still in his full Spider-Man apparel, minus the mask. His chest rose and fell consistently, small puffs of air leaving his lips.

Matt fully entered the room and quietly walked to the bed. He cautiously pulled the blankets from under the teen, trying not to jostle him too much, and pulled them to rest under his chin.

The boy's brow furrowed in his sleep as he stretched out a bit before settling back down. 

Matt pulled one of the pillows from under his head. The boy would thank him later, when he woke up without a sore neck.

He looked down at the soft object in his hands and sighed. He ran his fingertips over a single drop of moisture stained its otherwise unblemished surface, right where Peter’s head had been resting. The only evidence of the child's grief.

He sat on the bed and slowly raised a hand to Peter’s head, running it through the silky brown curls.

He felt his chest constrict with emotion. But no. he wouldn't cry. It was physically impossible for him to cry. Crying was overrated. 

“Oh, kid,” He murmured, watching the teen’s somewhat troubled expression, even in his sleep.

No one can catch a break, can they?

~~~Back at the Avengers Tower~~~

Clint hummed quietly as he army crawled his way through the vents, the confining space more of a comfort to him than anything.

He traveled a few more feet before pausing at an opening. He twisted in a way that gave him access to the vent and dislodged it, letting himself fall heavily from the ceiling and onto a soft mattress. Sighing blissfully, he spread himself on the cloud-like material. 

“Why did Tony give you the softest bed? You don't deserve it.”

“I may not deserve it, but you deserve it even less than I do. Why are you here?”

Clint looked up, his chin resting on his chest, and pouted at Natasha, who was sitting on a beanbag in the far corner of her room, sharpening her favorite dagger. 

“Harsh,” He whined childishly. “Why you gotta be so ruuudddeee~”

She looked up from the dagger to glare up at him, and he dropped his head back onto the impossibly soft mattress.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, the only sound being the constant scrape of metal against metal.

Their comfortable silence was interrupted when Natasha froze, looking up from her blade and toward the door. Clint calmly raised his head.

“Whatzzup- oh.” He pushed himself up to his elbows when the door opened to reveal Steve Rogers, a serious expression on his face. 

“‘Sup ‘Merica?” Clint fake saluted and rolled lazily off the bed, landing on the floor with a loud thud. 

Steve’s brow twitched in annoyance, but he ignored the man. 

“We… have a situation. Tony wants you all in his lab ASAP.”

Natasha raised a brow and Clint jumped up with a loud gasp.

“He’s letting us into his lab!?!?!”

Then he actually saw the man's expression for the first time, and he sobered. 

“What's going on?”

Natasha and Clint stood from their places, and Steve bit the inside of his cheek before letting out a quiet breath.

“It's the Spider-kid. Tony will fill you in on the details down in the lab. 

The two nodded and they left the room, making their way to the lab. 

When they all got there, Tony and Bruce were huddled over a phone in Tony’s hands, not bothering to look up.

“Stark,” Natasha said, earning a grunt from the man. “What happened, why are we here?”

Tony raised his head, closing his eyes and sighing. After a moment of hesitation, he turned toward her, but instead of talking, he shoved the phone into her hands. 

She looked down at the screen, scrolling down a bit before pursing her lips and passing the phone to Clint, who did the same. The man's eyes widened and he let out a quiet ‘oh shit,’ before looking up and solemnly handing the phone back to its owner. 

A tense silence overcame them for a few moments, until Steve spoke up. 

“Do we have any idea when he is now?”

Tony pocketed his phone and shook his head.

“The security cam from an alley showed him for a few minutes, but that's it.”

“Well,” Clint frowned. “Was he ok?”

Again, Tony shook his head. 

“...He was carried out of the building, half unconscious. By Daredevil.”

Another silence.

“...You mean, he was kidnapped by that vigilante dude from Hell’s Kitchen?”

Tony looked up at Steve and nodded. 

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean, Sherlock. Great detective skills you got there.”

Bruce took off his glasses and rubbed his temples.

He sighed.

“Are we going to stand around talking about him, or are we actually going to look for him?”

The group hesitated, then Tony clapped his hands together loudly. 

“A’ight,” He said, rubbing them together and leaning back in his chair. “Let's get to work then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was/am/alway will be out of it. sorry.


	13. Uh Oh Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. yep... I mean, I'm sorry, but like... I can't think straight rn. 
> 
> I was stabbed. 
> 
> I am ok now.
> 
> But like... where was SM when I was oofed. 
> 
> Anyways. It wasn't the whale this time, if anyone was wondering. 
> 
> My schedule might be extra oofed from now on, but I'll try to get back on track soon. Thank you all for all your support and everything you've done, it really means so much to me. 
> 
> Don't forget to comment, to just say hi, criticize me, or whatever. Comments always make my day.
> 
> Also, the first half of this chapter was written before The Thing, and I literally just finished it, so it's pretty shitty. and short.

It had been almost a full 24 hours since the kid fell asleep, which was a bit worrying. Then again, he was just told that his last living relative died, so Matt decided he might need (read: probably deserved) the rest.

The man thought of calling Claire, to inform her of the situation and ask for her help, but she was probably busy right now, being a nurse and all that.

He sat on the couch by the coffee table, elbows resting on his knees and head in his hands as he tried to find a solution.

He couldn't leave the boy alone, that was for sure. The state he was in was… not ok, and Matt knew he needed to keep an eye on him. 

One of the many problems Matt had with that was that he had a life he needed to get back to. He didn't go to work yesterday for obvious reasons, calling in sick to Foggy so he wouldn't worry. He needed the money, though. He could barely support himself, let alone him and a super-powered self-sacrificial teenager with a heightened metabolism. 

Then there was Daredevil. 

How was he supposed to balance his nightlife with his work life and NOW a kid at the same time? He wouldn't just quit his job, people needed their services, and Foggy and Karen wouldn't take it too well. He definitely wouldn't quit Daredevil, That's for sure. 

A thought entered his mind just then. Tony Stark has money, and the kid went to see him (he wasn't stalking just loosely following hoihoihoi), so they must know each other.

Matt grimaced and mentally slapped himself for even thinking of dropping the poor kid off at that drunk psychopaths' doorstep. 

The man may have money, but there's no conscious in that empty head of his.

Matt yawned into his hand and rubbed his eyes tiredly before standing and walking over to the kids' room. 

Silently opening the door, his brows furrowed slightly at the stuttering sound of Peters heartbeat.

He entered the room and stood by the bed, listening as the kid let out a quiet whimper between ragged breaths.

He stood hesitantly in place. Should he wake him? Should he leave? He’d have to feed him soon, since he hadn't eaten in almost two days. 

With that thought, Matt made up his mind and reached out to touch the boy.

Abruptly, he jumped back when Peter shot up with a cut off sob, getting tangled in the bed sheets. He could sense the kids growing panic as he thrashed, trying to escape the tangled mess he had gotten himself into.

He tried to grab him and calm him down, but when his hand got remotely close to touching him, the boy flinched violently and jumped back. Matt momentarily forgot who he was dealing with and was shocked when he heard the tear of the bed sheets. 

Peters breaths came out as strangled gasps as he scrambled away from the man. 

“Peter! Calm down, remember where you are,” Matt tried to reach out again but it didn't seem to work, as the next thing he knew, he was on the other side of the room, the wall behind him cracked and his back very much in pain.

He grunted as he stood, on the defensive as the boy scrambled off the bed and onto his feet, his movements uncontrolled and jerky. 

He took a cautious step forward, knees and elbows bent as Peter struggled to catch his breath, his hands pulling harshly at his hair with his back facing the man. 

Patiently, Matt waited for the boy's heartbeat to return to somewhat normal before approaching slowly. 

This time when he extended his hand, Peter only tensed as he set it cautiously on his shoulder. 

“...Peter?” He asked hesitantly. The kid seemed to steel himself, inhaling through his nose, dropping his hands to his sides, exhaling through his mouth, before shrugging off the man's hand. 

“It's-s ok. I-I'm ok. I'm r-really s-sorry.”

Matt noticed the boy's stutter seemed to get worse, as he had to take a second to try to find out what had come from his mouth. 

Yep, he decided. He was definitely NOT cut out for this. 

Peter turned to face him, his head bowed and his eyes on the ground. Matt noticed he had calmed quite a bit, though his hands shook almost violently.

“Mhm,” He hummed noncommittally, removing his hand from the kid's shoulder. “Let's get some food into you for now, alright?” 

The boy looked up but didn't look at him. Instead, he stared at a point on Matt’s shoulder as he answered.

“ ‘m not hu-hungry.” He mumbled, but didn't resist when Matt practically dragged him out of the room.

“Nope,” He answered as they approached the table. “Wrong answer. You haven't eaten in almost two days. That mixed with your metabolism, I don't even want to know what happens when you don't eat.”

Matt pushed him into one of the chairs at the table and walked around the counter to the fridge.

He cringed when he reached inside, his hand touching nothing but a couple of small containers and the chilled back wall. He would need to get some groceries sooner rather than later, especially for the kid. 

He grabbed one of the containers and opened it, allowing himself to smile a bit when the scent of turkey, mayo, and whole grain bread reached his nose. 

Karen had snuck them in one day when she walked him home, saying ‘your superpower healing zen thing won't work if you don't even eat anything. I'll make sure of it.’

Matt straightened and closed the fridge, walking around the counter to get to the boy, who was staring blankly at a spot on the table. 

He placed the open container in his line of sight, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“C’mon,” He said, sliding it on the table so it would sit right in front of the kid. “Eat.”

Peter stared up at him for several long moments before looking down at the sandwiches. There were two left in the average sized plastic container, and he slowly reached out to grab the top one. 

Hesitantly, he raised it with both hands, his eyes flitting nervously from the sandwich to Matt, who stayed in his spot, his arms crossed, waiting for Peter to obey the command. 

His shoulders drooped resignedly, and he took a small, cautious bite from the corner. 

It felt like gravel in his mouth, tasteless, just… wrong. He chewed tentatively, lowering the rest of his sandwich back to the table. He felt his stomach churn as his mind began to wander. 

The last sandwich Ma- He had had was packed for his lunch a few weeks ago, given to him by surprise. He didn't usually eat lunch at school, deciding to wait until he got hom- until he left, but M- it was shoved into his hands that morning, along with a kiss on the cheek and an ‘I'll be home late today, don't wait up on me for dinner’ in that sweet, gentle voice he loved and missed, the softness of it as it left Her mouth, a small smile on Her face, a lingering touch of Her fingers on his shoulder whenever She worried, the softness of Her hair as it whispered by his face whenever they hugged.

He was broken out of his thoughts abruptly by a small shift from the man he forgot was there. He seemed uncomfortable, his head tilting away and his fingers fidgeting with his clothes. 

Suddenly, the fidgeting stopped, and the man's voice was gentle when he spoke, softer than usual. Almost… comforting. 

“It's ok to cry, Peter.“

Is that what he was doing? Crying? He set the sandwich down, raising a hand to his face. His fingertips brushed softly across his cheek, and when he pulled them back he noticed how blurry his vision was. The tips of his fingers were shiny with moisture, and he stared at them, frozen.

The empty void in his chest grew, and he was afraid it would swallow him whole. 

He shut his eyes and took a shaky breath, sniffling a bit. 

“N-no.” He rasped, his voice barely there. 

Matt tilted his head to hear better, and he grew worried when he saw that the boy wasn't moving. 

He focused in on his heartbeat, which was beating erratically in his chest. 

It was like a bomb went off a moment later. 

Peters' hands gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white and the wood splintering. He stood suddenly, his chair flying backward. 

“FUCK!” He cried, tears now freely streaming down his face. 

Without thinking, he lifted the table and threw it at Matt, who barely ducked in time. 

“Spi-Peter!”

The boy spun on his heels and sprinted to the bedroom, Matt running after him. 

Frantically, Peter’s eyes scanned the room, the only coherent thoughts in his head were 1. Get your mask (probably out of habit), and 2. Get the FUCK out of there. 

His eyes caught a glimpse of red under the bed, and he ran up to it, falling to his knees and practically throwing the bed across the room. 

His hands just barely grazed the red fabric when someone tackled him from behind, throwing him to the ground. 

The wind was knocked out of him for a moment, but he threw Matt off of him and lunged for his mask, rapidly pulling it over his head before turning back to the man, who was picking himself up off the floor with a grunt. 

“Peter, this isn't you, stop this!”

And for a second, their eyes met.

The white of the boy's mask stared back at him, blank and emotionless, unlike the Spider-Man he heard of before. The Spider-Man who never failed to throw a sarcastic comeback at anybody, even when the odds were against him. The Spider-Man who never accepted any kind of thanks from anybody, whose cheerful demeanor never failed to calm a frightened victim or child. 

This wasn't Spider-Man. 

He sensed the exact moment the boy’s muscles tensed, so he easily dodged the clumsily thrown punch aimed at his face. Instead, he grabbed the arm by the elbow and twisted it, ignoring the way his heart panged when the boy let out a cry of pain, and flipped him, slamming him into the floor. 

“...Letmeoutletmeoutletmeout…” The boy was chanting under his breath, and Matt grimaced. 

“Can't do that, kid. Get a hold of yourself,” He panted, tightening his hold on the boy. “You are a danger to yourself and everyone around you. You need to stop this.”

Apparently his words went unheard, because the next thing he knew, he was flying across the room and straight into the door, breaking right through and landing by the kitchen counter. 

Stars danced in his vision and he let out a pained gasp when he tried to stand, his ribs flaring.

He heard hurried footsteps and he rolled from his back onto his side, facing the boy who was undoubtedly making his way to the door. 

“Peter, stop!”

The steps faltered, and he felt the boy's eyes on him for a long moment. 

Peter stared blankly at the man on the floor. He knew he should feel bad, at least, but at the moment, he couldn't feel anything. It was like the void had swallowed him whole, leaving nothing behind but a terrifying numbness he had never experienced before. 

Without a second thought, he turned away, not hesitating anymore.

Matt let out a loud curse as the door slammed closed seconds later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please please comment!


	14. Tony Stark Needs a Hug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like
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> hi

The liquid burned as it traveled down his throat.

He slammed the bottle of whiskey down on his desk a little harder than necessary, but he didn't notice as his hand scrolled through the holograms floating in front of him. 

The workshop was completely dark except for the light blue glow from the holograms and a small, glowing circle in the middle of the chest of the only man in the room, faded only by a thin black tank top.

Sitting on the desk in front of him was a mess of spare parts, tools, and a half-empty bottle.

‘Half empty,’ He thought. ‘I can fix that.’

His hand went to reach for it, but it was suddenly snatched away, and Tony jumped.

“Wha’ the fuckkkk?” He slurred as his chair was spun around to face a very disappointed looking super soldier. 

“Tony…”He started, but was interrupted as the man in front of him tried reaching for the bottle, making grabby hand motions.

“Gimme back, Rogers. I'll doop you into the volcano if you do- don’t.”

“Ok, first of all,” He set the bottle aside and Tony pouted. “That didn't even make sense. Second of all…” He took in the dark bags under his eyes, the stench of alcohol, the exhaustion clear on his face.

“I thought we were supposed to be looking for Parker.”

Tony blinked once, looking like an owl to Steve, before nodding. 

“Yeah… yeah, I ammm.”

He took back control of his chair, pushing Steve back before spinning back around to face the holograms. 

“I have, uh, I have JARVIS hacking into cam’ras and… stuff. He’ll tell me when he sees our poor baby spooder, won't ya, J?”

“Of course, Sir” The AI answered back, sounding tired, if that were possible. 

“An- and I'm doing…” He flailed his arms for a moment before motioning to the holograms. “That!” He finished proudly, and Steve internally sighed. 

The team hasn't seen Stark since the day he told them that Spider-Man was missing, which was almost two days ago. Steve was sure the man hadn't slept, and the alcohol spoke for itself. 

“Ok, that's enough of that.” He decided, grabbing the back of Tony’s chair and wheeling him away from his desk. 

“Noooooooo…” He whined as his desk kept getting farther and farther away from him. Or was he getting farther and farther from his desk? Someone needs to put a stop to this.

“You're in no state to be working right now, Tony. you can't help the kid like this.”

He walked around the chair and lifted the man up by his arm, holding tightly as he swayed dangerously. 

He shut his eyes at the intense nausea that arose and gulped.

“Tha’ was a big no-no, my darlin’” He moaned as he raised a hand to his head, swallowing against the bile that threatened to rise as he was forced to start walking. The migraine pounding in his head didn't help either. Maybe he shouldn't have drunk that much. Maybe he didn't drink enough…

The two reached the doors of the workshop, and they opened on their own, letting them stumble through and into an elevator. 

“Commons, please, JARVIS.” Steve said, lowering his voice as Tony flinched against him at the sound. 

The elevator started on it's way up, and Tony shook his head.

“Whyyyyy.... I was w-workin’. I gotta… gotta do… do the, uh, workin’. Gotta find Pete.”

The elevators opened, and Steve half dragged, half carried the man to the couch in front of the tv, sitting him down and pushing him onto his back.

“Rogeeerrs…” He whined before covering his eyes with his forearm. “...iz bright.”

The lights dimmed on their own and Steve left to the kitchen to get his friend a glass of water. To a point, the team was used to Tony and his usual antics, but Steve knew that Tony was trying his hardest to wean himself off alcohol. Whatever is going on with him must be really affecting him to drive him back to his old drinking habits.

He took a glass from a cabinet and filled it with tap water, making sure he turned off the faucet before heading back to the main room. 

He froze at the doorway as he saw Tony in the same position, lying as still as possible as Natasha sat beside his head, running her fingers through his hair.

“This really means a lot to you, doesn't it?” He heard her murmur, and Tony hesitated before nodding his head, one hand curing toward his chest to scrape lightly at the reactor. 

“I dunno, Nat. The first time I saw ‘im, It- it scared me how young he looked, ‘n now that th-this happened…” His breath hitched, and Nat shushed him gently, waiting for him to continue.

It took Steve a moment to recognize that he was crying. Tony Stark was crying. Of course, he was drunk at the moment, but still.

“He's still so young, ‘n then the fire… He lost everything. He was younger th’n me when… when mom died. Then he gets… kidnapped by some’ne, we don't know where he is… we hafta him, Nat. I have to find ‘im…” 

He fell silent, and Nat nodded solemnly, her eyes sympathetic, before turning her head and making eye contact with Steve. She didn't seem surprised to see him. Instead, she motioned her head for him to join them, and he steeled himself before walking back in.

The moment Tony saw him, his expression closed off and he discretely wiped his eyes, the hand on his arc reactor staying still, except for the quiet tapping motions it was making on its surface. 

Silently, he handed the man the glass of water, and Tony took it, sitting up as he took a sip.

“...Thanks, hun.”

Steve frowned a bit before nodding and sitting on the other side of the couch, grabbing the tv remote and pressing the power button.

They watched whatever was playing until Tony finished the water. Nat took the glass from him and gently settled him back down, his head resting on her thigh. 

It took a while, but after half an hour, Steve glanced beside him. Tony had fallen asleep, his face calm except for the slightly furrowed brow and almost imperceivable twitching at the corner of his mouth. He can't even be peaceful in his sleep, Steve sadly discovered. 

“You heard him,” Nat suddenly whispered, and his gaze slid from Tony to her. He slowly nodded.

“I had no idea he thought that way. No wonder he didn't come out of his lab all that time.”

“He's disappeared in there for longer,” Natasha pointed out, and he shrugged.

“Still.”

She pursed her lips and looked down at Tony, her fingers playing with a piece of his hair.

“The boy means a lot to him. Reminds him of himself.”

And it was a sad thought, but it was true. None of the members of the team really know anything about Tony’s past, & he hasn't seemed too inclined to share. They know he had a rough childhood, and that his parents died when he was still young, barely an adult, so all the responsibilities of the Stark name fell onto his shoulders.

“Do we have any leads as to where the kid might be?” asked Steve.

“Clint went back out the site of the fire, to see if he might have left any clues behind, Thor is god knows where, Bruce is doing what Tony’s supposed to be doing right now, and Tony… well, you know.” She finished, and Steve nodded.

They both froze when Tony shifted in his sleep, turning around to face the back, before settling back down.

They fell into a comfortable silence once more, the tv showing some random action movie.

After about an hour or so, Clint walked in, a serious look on his face and a familiar half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.

“Find anything?” Natasha asked, and he shook his head. 

“Nothing. And you know what? Maybe I should just stop looking. Seems like I wouldn't be the only one.” The grip around the neck of the bottle tightened as he set him eyes on Tony’s sleeping form.

Steve was about to protest, but Clint started talking again. “I thought he said he quit drinking. Here I am, believing him like a goddamn fool. I walk into his lab to see if he's made any progress, and all I smell is alcohol, and this is almost empty. I doubt he's even started looking for the kid.”

“Clint.” Natasha snapped, and his glare directed towards her. She began to speak but was once again interrupted, this time by Tony, who lifted and turned his head to face the room with squinted eyes.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” He slurred, the alcohol still in his system.

Clint opened his mouth, but Steve jumped up immediately and steered him out of the room.

Tony tilted his head back to look at Natasha. “What happened?”

“Nothing, Tony,” She soothed. “Go back to sleep. You're still drunk.”

He frowned for a moment but nodded, slipping down a bit before closing his eyes. 

Her attention went back to the tv, and a few minutes later, Steve and Clint walked back in, the latter looking a lot more remorseful. 

‘Good,’ She thought to herself. 

They sat in silence once more, the news channel buzzing quietly from the tv.

Clint took the remote and began to change channels, finding each one dull. Finally, he stopped on an action movie, 

There were a lot of explosions.

That was enough for the archer. 

A particularly loud explosion sounded, and Natasha looked down when Tony flinched in his sleep. 

Her eyes widened in alarm and she reached over to tap Steve on the shoulder. He turned around and froze at the sight. 

Tony’s face was covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes screwed shut, and his form was slightly trembling. He flinched at the next explosion. 

“Turn it off,” She hissed, and Clint did so, finally seeing what was happening. 

She shook Tony’s shoulder gently trying to wake him.

“Tony, hey, wake up.”

He only groaned and twisted his body, flinching again to seemingly nothing.

Steve stood from the couch to crouch in from of him. 

“C'mon, Tony. It's just a dream. Wake up!”

He placed a hand on the man's chest and got no warning when a hand flew at his face, punching him in the face & pushing him onto his ass.

Tony woke with a strangled gasp and he jumped, falling off the couch and onto Steve’s legs.

“Tony!” Clint stood and grabbed Tony’s arm, pulling him up from the floor & Steve. 

The man's glassy eyes were wide as the flitted around the room, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. His gaze stopped on Steve, still on the floor and rubbing his sore cheek.

His mouth opened, then closed. 

“Steve, I-” He began, but JARVIS’ voice boomed from the ceiling. 

“Sorry to disturb, Sir, but I have been able to find Spider-Man. He has been spotted by a security camera near Hell’s Kitchen.” 

They all froze, looking at each other. 

They found him. 

They found Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanna point out that Tony & Steve aren't in a relationship. Tony is just being...Tony.


	15. Noah's a Sweetheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, say hi or something!

The room was silent for a moment, but Tony was the first to move. 

“J, get my suit ready.” He ordered as he quickly tried to walk out of the room. Steve grabbed his arm and he was yanked back like a puppy on a leash at the same time Jarvis spoke up. 

“Sir, it would be inadvisable to fly in your intoxicated state.”

“I give a grand total of zero and a half fucks- ow, shit Rogers, let me go.” He winced as the grip around his arm tightened considerably, but Steve didn't budge. 

“You are NOT going. Not while you're like… this.” Tony opened his mouth to protest. “That is an order, Anthony.”

And none of them missed the way Tony flinched back, moving his arms up a bit as if to protect himself.

Steve’s eyes widened at the reaction and he loosened his grip on the man's biceps. Him using Tony’s full first name was nothing new, it was just a way to get him to actually listen for once. He would say it, and the man would become more serious, more professional, the way he was supposed to act. He had never seen Tony react like that before. 

...then again, the man was also drunk. Steve knew that Tony’s filter became nonexistent when drank. Not much different from when he was sober, but he could at least hide it better when not intoxicated. 

They stared at each other for a long moment, but Natasha stepped forwards, breaking them out of their trance, and placed a soothing hand on Tony’s shoulder. 

“He’s right, Энтони. You could hurt yourself, or the boy. You're not of any help to us right now.”

Steve watched as pain flashed behind Tony’s eyes before being replaced by sadness, and the man slumped, his arm slipping out of Steve’s grasp.

He nodded, sniffing loudly. “You're right.”

He slowly walked back to the couch, dropping himself heavily on the cushions. 

“Go on then, you've got a spider to catch.”

The team hesitated before filing out of the room, Natasha being the last.

Steve’s steps faltered a bit as he heard Tony’s soft voice. 

“Keep him safe, Tasha.” He whispered.

They were gone.

…

The sky was clear that day, giving Peter the disadvantage. He tried sticking to dark alleys and the shadows to avoid being seen, but he knew the red and blue of his suit would soon give him away. 

After leaving Mr. Murdock’s apartment, he had climbed up to the roof, where on shaky legs he flung himself. The shouts that erupted underneath him grated on his sensitive ears, his senses being dialed way up, so he decided he would avoid the attention by sneaking around. 

His limbs felt like lead as he scaled down a fire escape to rest. His movements were jerky and unsure, and his spider-sense was currently going crazy. He couldn't see any threat, but right now, it seemed that everything was a danger. 

He delicately set his feet on a balcony railing, sliding down to a crouch. He tried shaking his head to rid it of the fog that seemed to have taken residence in his mind, but only succeeded in making himself lightheaded. His vision went dark around the sides and he swayed dangerously. 

To avoid falling onto the pavement of the alley below, he jerked back on reflex, yelping when he fell off his perch and hit the balcony floor instead. His head banged on the glass sliding doors, eliciting a whine of pain from his throat. He laid it back down somewhat gently when he couldn't hold it up any longer, leaning it back against the cool glass. 

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a quick nap…

The moment he closed his eyes, He opened them again in panic as the glass door behind him began to slide open. His head almost hit the floor, but he used what strength he probably didn't even have to scramble halfway up and try to climb the railing again so he could make a quick escape.

“...Spidey?” A hesitant, childish voice called, and he froze halfway over, eyes wide and chest heaving. 

Slowly, he turned around. A young boy, probably around the age of six or seven, half hid behind the curtain covering the door, looked up at him, awe clear in his eyes. 

‘I don't deserve that look…’ His mind supplied, and he added that to the gaping void in his chest. 

The boy blinked up at him, mouth hanging open, and Peter then noticed the dark bruise coloring the boy’s small jaw. “...are you… are you ok?” He asked shyly, and Peter let himself calm a bit. 

“Um-” He cleared his throat when his voice came out rough and cracking. “Y-yeah, kid. I’m good.”

He looked past the boy into the apartment before glancing back at him. “You, uh, need something? Are your parents home?”

The boy hesitated. “Mommy’s in her room. She’s not feeling too good. She won't wake up.”

Peter blanched at those words, posture going rigid. 

“What do you mean, she’s not waking up?” He asked cautiously, and his internal panic increased as the boy’s green eyes filled with tears. 

“I went to w-wake Mommy up, ‘n I touched her. She’s all hot and sweaty, a-and when I tried to talk to her, an’ she won't wake up Spidey, Mommy won't wake up!” The boy bawled, tears running freely down his cheeks. 

Peter crouched down and set a hand on his shaking shoulder. “Hey, shh, it's ok, it’ll be ok.”

The boy launched himself at Peter, hugging him tightly around his waist. Peter wrapped his arms around the boy and picked him up, walking into the apartment. 

“Where is she?” He asked, and the boy pointed a finger at the door closest to him. 

He walked up to it and gently set the child down. 

“Ok, kid- what’s your name?”

He sniffled a little, wiping his sleeve across his face. “Noah.” He whispered. 

“Ok, Noah. I'm gonna need you to stand watch out here, all right? I'm going in there to see your mum.” The boy nodded tearfully, and Peter stood, opening the door and slipped inside. 

Almost immediately his senses were assaulted by the stench of sickness. The air was heavy and thick, and Peter found himself swallowing the bile that threatened to rise. 

His eyes wandered and landed on the shivering lump on the bed. Long brown hair peeked out from multiple blankets, and a soft moan echoed in the room.

Peter took small steps forwards until he reached the bed. He reached up and pulled away the blankets covering the woman's face. 

Her skin was a sickly grey color, sweat rolling down her face in large beads.

Her eyes fluttered as if to open, but they settled again after a moment.

Hesitantly. He reached out, brushing away the hair that stuck to her sweaty forehead. 

He focused in on her breathing, hearing past the blood rushing in his ears.

Her lips were slightly parted, and as she shallowly inhaled and exhaled, the sound vibrated, almost like a purr. 

Peter’s eyes widened and his breath hitched in realization. 

“No…” He whispered, his muscles going tense in panic. This woman was dying. Peter would know that sound anywhere. He had heard it far too many times during his time as Spider-Man. The death rattle in her breath was a sign that mucus and saliva had accumulated in her throat, blocking her airways. She was dying. Peter sucked in a breath, his head shooting up as the door creaked open.

“...Spidey?” Noah’s small voice called, and Peter whirled around, taking long strides away from the sickly woman to shoo away the child, rushing him out of the room and closing the door behind him. He crouched in front of Noah, his hands firmly gripping his shoulders. 

“Is she ok?” The boy asked, and Peter’s stomach churned. 

“I'm gonna need to use your phone, kid. Do you guys have a phone?” Noah nodded and ran to what seemed to be a kitchen. Entering through the open doorway, it was a small room with a marble counter and orange-creamish colored walls. At the end of the counter sat a black landline phone, and Peter rushed over and picked it up, dialing 911. A female speaker picked up after two rings. 

“Hello?” Peter’s voice wavered, and he glanced at the fidgety boy standing behind him. 

He cleared his voice, trying to keep up his quickly deteriorating facade. 

For the kid. 

“I’m gonna need an ambulance up here. Like, real soon.”

He lowered his voice. 

“There's a woman here and she- she’s really-” His voice cracked, his mind wandering to the image of the woman, her pale face, her sweaty skin, the way her shallow breaths rattled in her chest. 

/Was that how May felt?/

He inhaled sharply at the thought, fighting back a panic attack. 

“Hey, hun, it's ok. Calm down,” The woman soothed, her voice heavy with a Brooklyn accent. She kept talking, telling him that they had tracked their location and they're on their way soon. The phone trembled in his hands as more thoughts of May intruded his mind. 

“Spidey,” Noah called loudly, startling Peter. “What’s goin’ on?”

There was silence on both sides of the phone for a long moment.

“...Spider-Man? That you?” the woman whispered, but Peter wasn't listening. 

“Come quick.” 

And with that, he slammed down the phone, a fiery rage overcoming him as his spider-sense buzzed at the base of his skull. 

Noah flinched at the loud sound, but Peter ignored him. He strode back to the woman’s bedroom, shooting a ‘stay out’ over his shoulder and firmly closing the door. 

He shot a web, snatching up the lamp on the bedside table before throwing it as hard as he could at the figure standing on the other side of the bed.

The man’s hand shot up, catching it even at the speed it was going, and he looked up.

Peter and Captain America’s eyes met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You likey? or no? Please leave constructive criticism so I can do better for you guys!


	16. Oh Noes

Both stayed in place, Captain America the perfect image of calm and authority, while Peter fought tooth and nail to keep control of himself, but every second that passed, that woman looked more and more like May, and Peter was losing himself.

The man seemed to hesitate, his eyes flitting from Peter to the woman, before making a decision. 

He stepped right up to the bed and reached towards her, and Peter completely lost it. 

Lacking any of his usual grace, he launched himself at the super-soldier, not successfully tackling him, but keeping him away from- from the woman.

‘I have to protect her,’ he thought. He couldn't save May then, but he will do his damn best to save her now. 

They both stumbled backward, Peter pushing him into the wall, scratching and shoving like a wild animal. Once Steve overcame his initial shock, he managed to snatch both of Peter’s wrists, immobilizing his arms. He flipped them over, slamming Peter into the wall and knocking the wind out of him. 

“She needs help, Peter.” Steve tried, letting go of the boy’s wrists and letting him fall to the ground. He turned back to the woman, pulling the sweat-soaked sheets from her body. She was wearing a purple tank top and blue jeans, both articles of clothing sticking to her pale skin. He put one arm under her knees and the other on her back, ready to carry her.

“Get away from her,” Peter snarled, still gasping for breath. He lifted himself from the ground and lunged at him again, but was knocked off course by a lithe, smaller body. 

He rolled to the side, knocking up against the wall before crouching and looking up.

“You got this, Widow?” Steve asked, lifting the unconscious woman.

Black Widow nodded, not breaking eye contact with Peter.

“Get her to safety, we got this.”

Peter’s chest tightened as the man started walking out of the room and he tried to reach them, tried to save her, but a strong grip wrapped around his arm, swinging him off course and into the bed. 

He crashed into the side with a grunt, recovering quickly as he whipped around to face the Black Widow. 

Blood rushed in his ears as Steve maneuvered to open the door, freeing a hand under the woman in his arms to grip the handle and open the door quickly.

If it wasn't for his enhanced hearing, he wouldn't have picked it up, but his senses zoned in on a quiet sniffle, coming from the other room.

Noah was in the other room.

Peter shot a web at him and Steve jumped out of the way. The door slammed shut with the sticky substance just as his feet were kicked out from under him. 

His head slammed into the ground and the woman jumped on top of him, pinning him to the hard surface. 

He let out a growl as he twisted, throwing her off and launching himself off the floor at the super-soldier, who slammed his body weight into the door, sending it flying off its hinges and slamming into the ground with a loud crash.

As fast as he could, Peter picked himself up and jumped onto the ceiling in one fluid motion, webbing one of Steve’s feet to the floor and making the man stumble. He heard Natasha getting up so without turning, he shot another web, sticking her hands together and to the wall. 

Before the large man could fall over, Peter jumped from the ceiling, snatching the woman out of his arms and jumping out of the room through the open doorway. 

He looked down at the woman in his arms and froze for a moment, carefully reaching up with a shaky hand to wipe hair from her pale, sweaty forehead. 

“I-It's ok, you're gonna b-be ok.” He whispered, pointedly ignoring the way his voice wobbled tremendously. 

Vaguely, he heard Widow’s voice coming from the other room, which reminded him…

It took him less than a second to locate the little boy hiding behind the curtains of the sliding doors he had entered through. 

Speedily he made his way over to the boy, who poked his head out from behind the curtains, staring up at him with wide, teary, fearful eyes. 

His heart pounded noisily in his ribcage, each pulse beating in his chest. He saw Noah about to come out from his hiding place, but the child jumped back with a small cry as Peter’s legs gave out from under him. 

He fell to the ground as nausea threatened to overcome him, just barely conscious enough of his surrounding to be able to twist in a way which protected the woman from hitting the ground, maneuvering her to rest on top of him. She let out a moan of pain, her face scrunching in discomfort. 

Frantically, he pushed himself up as much as he could, his back against the wall. Noah stood shaking in fear beside him, and without thinking -how could he think when the ringing in her ears was so loud and distracting and painful and he might actually go crazy if it doesn't stop please oh god get out of my head get out get out g- He grabbed the boy's shirt and yanked him towards him so that he could partly cover him from the threat that his spidey senses screamed was coming. Or maybe it wasn't his sense. Maybe it was just his mind. 

With one arm he held the woman close to his chest and with the other, he hid Noah as best as he could, acting as a human shield. 

Black Widow and Captain America entered the room at the same time, the former sheathing a small knife covered in web residue. 

They both paused at the sight before them. 

Peter held the woman tighter. 

The two Avengers shares a look before Natasha took a cautious step forward. Peter pressed his back harder into the wall, his rapid breaths stuttering. 

“Hey, маленький паук,” She said, her voice airy and quiet, comforting. Unlike the Black Widow. “It seems you've been through quite a lot these past few days, huh?” 

Her eyes stayed trained on Peter, and she noticed his sharp intake of breath, and how that breath wasn't coming back out. She took another step forward, and the little boy behind him sniffled, clumsily wiping his tear-stained face with his sleeves. 

“You know,” She started again, feeling Steve’s eyes on her. “It seems like you could use some help. Will you let us help you?” 

A pause. 

Silence. 

A step forward. 

“Please, молодой, let me help you.” 

She crouched down right in front of him. Peter tried to lean away from her, but everything was…. Fuzzy. The ringing in his head had become unbearable, and he slammed his eyes closed against the pain. All he knew was to keep May safe. He had to save her. 

Both arms wrapped around the woman, freeing Noah. Natasha ushered him towards Steve, who picked him up and carried him out of the apartment. 

Peter let out a whimper as his head gave a painful throb, and Natasha took that moment to wrap around the boy, moving so her back would be against the wall. With rapid, fluid movements, she grabbed his forearms and wrenched them apart, despite his weak struggles and moaned ‘no, oh god please’, freeing the woman from his tight embrace. 

“Rogers, get back in here!” She called, and Peter flinched hard in her grasp. Steve rushed into the room and immediately. Pick the woman up and out of the apartment to take her to the ER. 

Peter was thrashing weakly in her hold, letting out pitiful noises. Smoothly and quickly, she let go of one of his arm's to grab the syringe they had prepared from her pocket and, without hesitation, she stabbed it into the boy's neck, injecting him with the strong sedative. 

Peter’s back arched in pain, his hands scrambling at the hardwood floors in a moment of intense panic as the strange substance entered his bloodstream. 

Then, nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
>  
> 
> Well, that sucked.


	17. Gwen is G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched Endgame several days ago and I fucking DIED GODDAMNIT HOW COULD YOU
> 
> so there's this
> 
> noo you made me cry again
> 
> why

Gwen was in her room with Ned and MJ working on a Bio project when she got the call. The person called himself Jarvis, or something like that. He told her to put the phone on speaker so that the others could hear the message, and then he told them that their presence was required at the Avengers tower. 

The three teenagers shared a look before shooting up and rushing to the tower, which is how the three of them found themselves in an elevator, riding up to the top levels to meet with Tony Stark.

The doors slide open and they all hesitated before MJ took the first step inside, followed closely by Gwen and Ned. They found themselves in a large living room, a small kitchen was in the far left corner, along with a bar. In the middle of the room was a couch surrounded by other smaller chairs settled in front of a large TV. On that couch, sitting upside down with his legs thrown over the back, was Tony Stark himself, dressed in a Led Zeppelin tank top and sweatpants. He was holding a StarkPad over his face, scrolling almost frantically, but what drew the kid's eyes was the muted glowing circle in the middle of his chest. Even through the fabric, there was no mistaking what that was. 

They stood in place, not knowing what to do.

“Butterfingers!” Stark called suddenly, not looking away from his screen, and making the teens jump. “Where the fuck is that coffee? I swear to god if you put oil in it one more time I'll take you apart for scraps. You'll be a hairdryer in your next life. Don't test me.” 

A second later a series of frantic beeps and chirps was heard from the kitchen, and out rushed a robot, in its one claw was a plain coffee mug with the liquid inside spilling a bit. 

Butterfingers dashed to his creator, not noticing the visitors at first. The moment he did see them, he squealed, startling everyone in the room, and his claw jerked above Stark's head. 

The same claw which happened to be holding the fresh hot cup of coffee. 

“Motherffff- goddamnit!!” Stark cried as he fell backward, off the couch and onto the floor. He swiped and rubbed at his face, trying to get rid of the burning liquid. 

“Son of a- oh god- Gimme a towel, gimme, now!” He rose to his knees and waved away the bot, who rushed back into the kitchen and reappeared a second later with a dirty hand towel. 

His creator fumbled for it blindly, having his eyes shut tight, before snatching it away from the bot coldly and wiping his face. 

He sighed after a moment and dropped the towel, glaring at Butterfingers with red-rimmed eyes. 

“Ok, that? That, my dear, was the last. Fucking. Straw- What the fuck?!” He jerked back into the couch as he finally noticed the three teenagers standing by the elevator, looking lost, confused, and maybe even a bit amused. 

Recognition sparked in his eyes after a moment and he closed them with a sigh, a hand rubbing his chest. 

"What the hell?" He breathed, opening his eyes to glare at the three, who shifted uncomfortably. "What're you doing here?"

Gwen hesitated, her brow furrowing a bit. 

"You… we got a call from someone named, uh, J...arvis? Or something like that? He said we needed to come here right away. It's about Peter, isn't it? Oh my god, is he alright? We heard about… about the fire… We haven't heard from him since."

They waited for an answer, but Stark just blinked at them with wide eyes, looking completely lost. 

"...Mr. Stark…?" Ned said hesitantly, and the man's gaze fell on him. 

"What the hell?" They heard him murmur before dropping back on his haunches and rubbing his temples with both hands. 

They waited for him to gain his bearings, MJ winced empathetically when he hissed and squeezed his eyes shut tight. She knew the signs of a migraine when she saw them. 

"Ok, ok. Ah, shit- let's try this again."

He rose unsteadily to his feet, using Butterfingers to pull himself up. 

The bot whined pitifully and backed up a couple of feet once his creator was standing. 

"Ok, cool. First things first," He squinted at them, then waved a hand in the air. “Jay, turn the lights down. And why didn't you tell me these-” He flailed in their general direction. “...humans… were here?” 

Immediately the lights dimmed, but there was no response. The man looked up. “Jay?” 

Butterfingers rolled up to him, poking him in the side and chirping rapidly. Stark looked at him for a moment as the bot ‘spoke’, and his eyes widened in realization. 

“...oh.” He breathed, pursing his lips a moment. “Deactivate ‘Mother-hen’ protocol, Jay. Sorry about that, bud.”

“Sir, if I may, just because I call you out on your unhealthy habit of not sleeping, not eating, nonstop working, isolation-”

“Alright, alright, that's quite enough.” He grumbled. “I knew there was a reason I made that protocol.”

“Mr. Stark,” Gwen called, her voice cold, and the man jumped and whipped his head in her direction. For some reason, he reminded her a lot of Peter. Speaking of…

“You called us here because of Peter, right? Yes or no?” She asked, her voice harder than strictly necessary. Ned turned to her in horror. This was Iron Man she was talking to. How could she be so… mean?

“Uh…” The watched as his eyes glazed over, staring at a spot on the wall behind them. 

MJ’s eye twitched. She was about to slap a bitch.

Nearly a minute passed in tense silence before Stark came back to himself, blinking rapidly.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He suddenly tensed, his complexion going pale. 

“Oh shit…” He mumbled, and the next thing they knew, the man’s knees were buckling, the AI was frantically calling his creator's name, and MJ and Gwen rushed up to catch him before he could hit the ground. 

The two girls pushed him onto the couch, his body falling limply onto the cushions. Ned and Butterfingers were panicking in the background, limbs flailing in desperation. 

Stark looked up at the two girls with hazy eyes and without lifting his head, Gwen, who was checking his forehead for a temperature, and MJ, who rushed into the kitchen to get a glass of water and a plastic bag. 

she returned a moment later and put the glass of water in his hand, lifting it up to his lips, using the other hand to lift his head off the back of the couch, and pouring the drink into his mouth through slightly-parted lips. 

He sipped a couple of times and she handed the glass to Gwen, who was staring at her curiously. 

MJ checked his temperature, wiping his messy hair out of his face, peered into each eye, checked the pulse on his wrist, studied him closely for a couple of seconds before finally sitting back. 

She looked back towards her friends who stared at her in anticipation. 

“He's fine,” she said. “Besides the… what was it? Not sleeping, not eating, nonstop working,” She grimaced, her lips twisting unpleasantly. “He's just hungover.”

Ned gaped at her. “How did you know?” He asked in wonder. 

MJ’s eyes flashed and she glared at him for a moment before shrugging. “I recognize the symptoms.”

Gwen and Ned shared a look.

Stark groaned and he glared at the ceiling as if it had offended him in some way. 

“They found Peter.” He said suddenly, and he had their attention.

“Where is he? Is he ok?”

He lifted his head and moved to stand, but a firm push from MJ had him falling back heavily.

“Unless you want to throw up everything you have in your stomach right now, which your AI claims isn't much at the moment, I suggest staying where you are and answering the question.”

“I- I think…” His brows furrowed and this mouth set into a frown, 

“Miss Stacy,” The AI started, taking the attention off of Stark. “Half of the Avengers have been sent to retrieve Peter Parker, and seem to be on their way. The doctor is several floors below working in his lab, but I found it smart if he is not disturbed, for… personal reasons. Mr. Odinson is currently not on Earth. The agents and the captain will be returning quite soon.”

“How is he?” She asked, and there was a moment of silence from the AI.

“I've not been informed of his condition as of yet, Miss Stacy. I regret I cannot be of more help to you.”

Gwen sighed, frowning and looking away from the group for a moment.

“Can I get up now?” Stark asked, and MJ raised a brow. 

“What for?” 

He scrunched his nose at her. “...Reasons…” 

She shot him a dry look and he deflated a bit, sinking into the cushions. 

Ned shifted awkwardly before walking forwards slowly and sitting in one of the near chairs, hands clasped in his lap.

“Hey, Ted.” Stark greeted, shooting him an uncharacteristically queasy and sincere smile, and Ned paled, his eyes going wide.

“U-um, Sir, Mr. Iron Man, sir, i-it's Ned, Mr. Stark. Sir. H-hi.”

The man's eyes dragged back to the ceiling and he sighed, ignoring the boy. 

Gwen watched as his coffee-colored eyes drooped a bit, fluttering closed before springing back open, and she couldn't help but let out a small smile. But what the fuck? This is Tony Stark, for crying out loud. The Invincible Iron Man, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. He had no right to look so… puppy-like. Peter-like.

He blinked slowly, and after a minute he raised his head from the couch, his gaze was unfocused, staring straight ahead, and Gwen and MJ shared a slight smile as he leaned forward with a quiet groan, resting his head in his hands. 

“Welp, this sucks. Don't drink, kids. Stay in school. Don't do drugs.” He joked, but MJ could see the way his forearms trembled as he rested his elbows on his knees.

Suddenly, his whole body convulsed, and Gwen and Ned jumped, but MJ just picked up the plastic bag, opened it and held it in front of his face. He immediately snatched it from her and heaved into it, emptying the contents of his nearly-empty stomach. It burned on it's way up his throat, and he felt himself tear up involuntarily.

His head pounded a steady, deep rhythm in his head, and he just wanted to sleep. But he couldn't. They had just found Peter, they’d be here soon. What if they needed him for some reason? He couldn't abandon his team for something as insignificant as sleep.

Slowly lowering the bag, he panted, muttering a quiet ‘thanks’ and closing his eyes. Everything hurt, why did it hurt?

‘Cuz you're a fucking dumbass, that's why’ His mind so helpfully supplied. ‘After attempting to go sober and then bringing on this onslaught of alcohol and liquid relief on your body?’ Whose stupid idea was that, anyway?

"So," He said suddenly, his voice raspy and raw. "What's up? What's happening in the world of teenagers and hormones and sex, drugs, alcohol… you know what? Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Jarvis, delete that footage, I don't want Cap complaining about me corrupting the younger generations. Again."

"Of course, Sir." The AI responded, amusement coloring his voice. 

"How long have you been sober for?" Was the sudden question that came from that scary MJ girl, who reminded him a lot of Pepper, cuz Pepper was the scariest human he's ever met but she's also very pretty, she's smart, she puts up with him…

"Stark?" He was snapped out of his thoughts, and he blinked owlishly at her. 

"Uh…" He paused, puffing out his cheeks and blowing out.

She catches his eye and once again, that raised eyebrow. 

"What's that gotta do with anything? I don't even know you. Stranger danger, Jay, save me."

MJ watched him, disappointment clear in her expression. 

"Sir," JARVIS said, his voice now rushed and worried, a contrast to the amusement of the conversation before. "They've arrived."

And that's all the four of them needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plz tell me how I did
> 
> and how Endgame was for you
> 
> and what level of dying/dead it made you
> 
> thank


	18. Hi This Is A Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, It's kinda mixed up, but I wanted to try something new this time, and since school's out in 14 school days, I'll be busy with finals and all that fun shit for a while, so I made a kinda probably a bit longer chapter. Please tell me how I did and critique and all that.

Looking back, maybe forcefully subduing the traumatized boy wasn't her best idea. It probably would have been better for his mental health to talk him down, try to make him understand that all they wanted to do was help. Maybe he’d understand. 

But maybe not. 

There was a lot of probability, a lot of chance, of ways that could have gone, and that's not how Natasha worked. She was efficient, quick to complete the mission by any means necessary, and if that meant taking down her target (15-year-old boy, for christ's sake-) with violence and drugging him to submission, then so be it. 

Even if she had wanted to...play nice, would be the correct term, that’s not her strong suit. She would have probably even made it worse if she said the wrong thing. Sure, she can seduce a man, just to slit his throat in bed that same night, she can sweet-talk her way into a secure building just to leave it in flames as she walks out like the badass she is, and sure, she can even be a shoulder to cry on those late nights (or early mornings) when she finds one of her teammates sobbing in the communal living room. She can be all of those things, but she just never learned what to expect from children. If she were honest, they maybe even kinda scared her. They were spontaneous, emotional, impulsive, and she never knew what to expect. 

She lifted her gaze from where it had rested, unmoving from that speck of dirt on the white tile between where her legs rested on the floor, and lifted it to watch Steve, who had adopted the same position as her, sitting on the floor in the (almost painfully) bright hallway with one knee bent, the other straight, head bowed, lost in thought. 

She could almost Smell The worry flowing off him.

It was a bit concerning how he seemed to be able to do that.

Weird flex but ok.

The second Bruce walked out of that room, nodding at Natasha and Steve, they stood from their places on the floor and immediately asked how the kid was. 

Bruce sighed, removing his glasses and cleaning them with the hem of his grey shirt. "Physically? Not against bad as I expected, honestly. Nothing you two need to worry about at the moment."

The two in front of him relaxed a bit. 

"Mentally, however," he continued, and his frown deepened. "Let's just say… that is something you need to worry about."

Steve shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Can we- will we be able to see him soon?"

Bruce thought about this for a moment, contemplating his answer. “I think it’d proba-” 

Just then, the elevator at the end of the hallway opened, and -oh god- three children (four if you include the man-child) and a quite hungover looking Tony Stark rushed out. 

The first girl was pretty, her blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, bangs covering her forehead, plaid red skirt and white shirt fitting her form. Gwen, if she was remembering correctly. 

Directly behind her was a (Filipino?) boy wearing jeans, extremely dirty sneakers, and a long-sleeve shirt that said ‘Midtown School of Science and Technology’. For some reason, his name didn't come to her as easily.

The last kid, MJ, she recalled, well, she seemed to be keeping an eye on Stark, standing beside him as he stiffly walked out of the elevator. Her dark eyes were calculating, her face blank, giving away nothing. She wore simple jeggings, a dark shirt with some band on it, and a jacket over it. 

She was hovering at the man's side, she noticed, never taking her eyes off of him except to scan her surroundings. 

Natasha realized she liked this kid. 

“Peter’s down here? Where is he?” Gwen asked, her face twisted with worry. 

Bruce hesitated a second before pointing to the door he had just come through moments before.

“...I guess you can see him for a minute.” He said quietly, and the girl smiled at him, relieved. 

“Oh, thank you, so much! C'mon, Ned.” She grabbed the boy's -Ned’s- hand and dragged him to the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

Steve seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, eyeing the girl that remained. 

“I'm sorry, why are you guys here?”

MJ turned her gaze to him, eyes bored and cold. “We're his friends…?” She said, her tone saying ‘duh, stupid.’ 

Internally, Natasha smiled.

“No- I know that. I mean… how, are you here?” Steve tried, and she nodded. 

“I think Stark butt dialed us. Or had his AI servant do it.”

Stark let out a choked noise at that. “JARVIS is not my servant! How could you? He’s my child, my baby. My only love- shit no wait that's Pepper JARVIS I'm sorry buddy please don't tell her I said that,”

The man stumbled where he stood, and MJ grabbed his arm, steadying him. 

She groaned. “Can you all stop standing there like idiots and take your mascot, please? He's not as light as you might think. I want to go see Parker.”

Tony gasped at her, then froze, confusion slowly dawning on his face. “...I don't know what's worse: the fact that you just called me an animal, or that you just called me fat.”

His eyes widened comically just then, and when Steve moved to support him in place of MJ, Tony whipped his head to face him. 

“Ooooh, Cap, Cap Cap Cap, we should totally get a mascot. Can we? Oh my god, why didn't I think of this before? A team mascot, that would be awesome! We could get like, a bird or something, maybe a tiger or a horse or- no, not a fish. Fish are stupid- or...a dog…?”

He looked around himself, at all the incredulous stares he was receiving. Steve, who was holding him by the arm, just blinked at him.

“...We can discuss this later…” 

“He's so distractible,” MJ commented, and the others chuckled.

The girl walked away, leaving the four adults standing in the hall. 

“You feeling alright, Tony?” Bruce asked, taking in his appearance. “You look dead on your feet.”

“I am.” The man responded without hesitation. “But I'm also waiting for Cap here to let go so I can go see the kid.” 

He wiggled his arm, which was still in Steve’s hold.

“Not a chance,” The blonde responded. “You can barely stand, Tony. You should rest some more.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but his stance became defensive as he jerked his arm out of Steve’s hands. “Nope. You're not my mother, Steve.” 

He tensely walked away from the group and toward the room, brushing Natasha’s shoulder on the way. He pointedly avoided her gaze, keeping his eyes straight forward. 

Once he had disappeared through the door, Bruce grimaced. “I hate it when he does that.”

Steve nodded in agreement. “It's like he doesn't trust us.”

Raising a brow, Natasha watched the two men. “He doesn't,” She said bluntly, and they turned to her. “Stark doesn't trust anyone, if you hadn't noticed.”

Bruce and Steve winced, looking away, and she sighed. “C'mon, guys. Let's go make sure they don't break anything.

☆□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■☆

Peter was never very fond of the dark. When he had been younger, his fear of the dark would have him rushing to Uncle Ben and Aunt May's room (not his parents. He couldn't remember them, for the most part), the sensation of darkness dangerously nipping at his heels driving him to find comfort in their presence. They would always welcome him into their bed, snuggling around him as he lay between the two adults, safe from the unknown. 

After that, Ben had been murdered. The night had been cold and dark. Ben's dark eyes had become lifeless. The blood on his hands was so very dark. 

So yeah, for Peter, the dark meant nothing good. 

Until the fire. 

He could see it vividly, clear as crystal. The flames danced around the furniture in his apartment, smoke searching for an escape. The room was bright. Bright and hot, and Peter was suffocating.

The red-orange flames licked at his skin, almost playfully, if you could describe it as such. It was almost beautiful, the way the fire twirled and danced, grew and reached out. You'd think the fire would be loud. You'd imagine it roaring in his ears, deafening, chasing away any chance of a complete (sane) thought in his head. You'd think that, but no. It was completely silent. Completely, and utterly, 

Silent. 

His sight was filled with the elegant dancing flames as he made his way to May's room. Even through all the chaos. The white-painted door was seemingly untouched.

It swung open on its own, revealing a made bed, a wooden drawer with small trinkets on top and picture frame, a faded cream-colored carpet at the foot of the bed. 

In his peripheral vision, a glint of silver flashed just outside the window. But that's not what drew his attention. 

Lying face up on the mattress was his aunt, face covered in soot, clothed singed, blood trickling out her mouth and nose and down her forehead from a cut by her hairline. Her eyes were dull, lifeless, but as he entered the room, they locked with his. 

He couldn't breathe. 

His blood seemed to turn to ice in his veins. 

All he knew was pure, utter terror. 

"You could have saved me, Peter."

"You failed."

"You failed me"

"Why?"

"Why did you kill me, Peter?"

"It's all your fault."

...

Out of nowhere, a consistent beeping noise faded in. 

What… what was that?

'Peter… Peter, please wake up.'

...that's not May,

'C'mon, kid, you can do it. Open those doe eyes of yours. Let's see em, c'mon, Parker.'

Everything around him seemed to fade, the room disappearing into nothing. 

His vision slowly filled with brightness, almost blinding. 

Slowly, he came back to himself. 

Tiredly, he became conscious of his surroundings. 

Sluggishly, he opened his eyes. 

☆□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□☆

Gwen stared wide-eyed at her boyfriend, lying pale and weak on the bed

The moment she had walked into the room, her breath had caught and a lump formed in her throat. She had seen Peter injured many times before, sure, but this… this was different. 

He just looked so… raw. So defeated. Even in his sleep. 

His skin had taken on a grey hue, almost translucent. He had always been a skinny kid, even with the muscle from the spider bite added, but the way his collar bones protruded from under the hospital gown, the way his cheekbones were more prominent than ever, this was new to her.

Back before everything started, before the Avengers, before that battle, Gwen knew Peter had problems. She knew he had nightmares almost every night, keeping him from getting a full night's rest, if any at all. She knew he blamed himself for every little thing that happened, whether on patrol or as a civilian. She knew he blamed himself for Ben Parker’s death. He was always hiding all his insecurities behind a mask of humor, ramblings, and deflections, but she knew. 

She knew all this, and it scared her. 

It scared her to think that Peter might not be able to come back from this. 

First, his parents died on that wretched plane (She saw how his skin grew clammy whenever they saw one. He's never gotten over that), then his uncle (the nightmares, the avoidance of that specific area while on patrol and out), and now, his aunt. His last living relative on the face of the earth.

‘She’s… she’s my rock, Gwen.’ He had confided one night, on the rooftop of her apartment building. She saw the troubled expression on his face, the faraway look in his eyes. ‘I don't know what I’d do if I lost her. I- I just can't. She’s all I have left.’ 

She had hugged him that night, whispering comforting words, then they watched (rewatched) the first several episodes of Sherlock on her phone.

That was always his greatest fear, losing May. 

His worst fear had come true. 

May was dead.

Gwen was brought back to the present when a small movement had caught her eye. 

She sat up straight in the uncomfortable plastic chair by Peter’s bedside and scanned him, then her surroundings. 

Ned had taken the second chair, which was still up against the wall. He had tried to stay up late after he called his mother saying he was having a sleepover, but eventually sleep had claimed him. MJ was in the last chair, curled up in a fetal position, hair covering most of her face. No matter how indifferent she tried to seem, Gwen knew that MJ cared just as much as her and Ned. She was also scared for her friend.

The movement that caught her eye, though, caught her a little off guard. 

Almost right after the three had entered the room, Stark had joined them, followed by the Captain, the spy, and Doctor Banner. 

Each of them had stayed for a while, finding their respective places (Natasha sat up on the counter, the Captain leaning against it right beside her, arms crossed over his chest, Banner leaning against the far wall, and Stark sitting on the floor up against the door), but Natasha had gotten a call and had to leave. At around 11, Banner and the Captain left too, with a pat on each of their backs, and a hand on Stark’s shoulder, telling them all to get some rest. Soon after that, Ned and MJ had dropped off, and Gwen thought that Stark had too, but she was wrong.

He hadn't moved from his position, legs bent, elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands, thumbs hooked under his jaw and his eyes peeking over his fingertips, eyes never leaving the figure on the bed. But now, he was twitching.

Gwen saw the way his fingers spasmed, as if trying to grab something. His brow twitched, too. But other than that, he completely still. 

She watched him. He was no longer staring at Peter, but at a spot on the side of his bed. Gwen saw as his fingers curled into fists by his face and he bowed his head, hiding behind them. She noticed the way his shoulders trembled, his knuckles turning white in the moon-lit room. His forearms were pressed tightly over his chest, covering the blue light. Still, it peaked around, giving the air around him a sort of blue haze. It was sad to look at.

For a moment, she hesitated. Should she say something in his vulnerable state? Would he close himself off, like Peter always did? Most likely. But she's had practice, she has to try at least. 

"...you really care about him, don't you?" She whispered, and his head whipped up, eyes watery and wide. 

Vulnerable. 

Hastily, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve and chuckled softly. "I thought you'd be asleep by now. Isn't that what children do? Its way past your bedtime."

"You care," she repeated, ignoring him and shifting in her seat to face him better. 

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze on the floor. She watched as his chest expanded and fell in a silent sigh. 

"...He's a good kid," He said finally, but Gwen felt there was more to it, but he stayed silent. 

Usually, Iron Man was connected with the terms 'hero,' 'strong,' even 'invincible,' but at the moment, he was none of these things, curled up on the floor as he was. 

Even though the man was pretty short, merely his presence could fill a whole room. ‘larger than life.'

But now…

He unclenched his fists and lowered them from his face, instead crossing his arms over the arc reactor to cover the light. Again.

There was a short pause, then he started talking. “It's late, you should get some r-”

“Why do you do that?” Gwen interrupted, and he snapped his mouth shut to look at her quizzically. 

“Do what?”

“You know,” she said. “The….” she flailed a bit before crossing her arms over her chest and nodding to where he was doing the same. 

He looked down and then back up at her. “The light’s annoying. I mean perfect for a disco party or a horror film, but not very helpful for sleeping.” 

He uncovered it to prove his point, and even through the black fabric of his shirt, the room was filled with the blue haze. 

Beautiful, she thought. 

“I think it's nice,” She commented, and the man snorted softly. 

They both froze when MJ shifted, curling in on herself even more before settling down.

They relaxed when she showed no sign of waking.

“Sure, kid.” He finished. “Get some sleep now, never know when spider-kid over there may wake up. He sure as hell won't want to see me, so you're my human shield, got it?” 

She hesitated only a moment before nodding. He was right, of course. 

She laid her head down on the bed, by Peter’s limp arm, and closed her eyes, slumping in the chair.

Sleep came fast for her, and the last thing she saw through her closed lids was the world taking on a gentle blue hue.

Beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's fun.
> 
> Please comment.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. It's been a while. I've just been busy being a lazy bitch this summer vacay, y'know? I haven't done anything but watch Star Trek and brood and wait for Far From Home to come out. 
> 
> Also, you don't have to read this, but I'd kinda appreciate it as it is a rare moment of actual venting and not bottling everything. 
> 
> So, as the years go by, and especially this year, the relationship between me and my parents has gotten... strained, I guess you could say. Every time me and my dad talk, we fight, and my mother is an EXTREMELY religious woman - everything that ISN'T the bible is demonic. Literally. Which means we don't usually agree. 
> 
> Back when I was in middle school, I was in a bad place mentally. I was extremely depressed, even to the point of self-harm. In short, I wanted to die. (for reasons I won't share besides the obvious). I was going to kill myself, I thought I had nothing to live for.
> 
> Then I discovered the MCU. 
> 
> I hadn't really gotten the chance to watch a lot of movies growing up, but the moment I had a taste of a Marvel movie, I was instantly in love. I went behind my parents back to watch them all, and looked forward to the new ones coming out. The movies are absolutely beautiful and amazing, the actors are passionate and lovable and I love them all, and it just kinda kept me going.
> 
> The MCU basically saved my life. It was the constant I needed when my life was falling apart, and it is still. I feel real anger whenever anyone (mum) talks bad about the movies or characters or actors. she doesn't know what they mean to me. What they represent. 
> 
> I can't get into the comics as much, since it's hard to hide things from a mother who has literally told me 'privacy doesn't exist in family.' Only snippets from social media and reading articles. 
> 
>  
> 
> I don't even know why I'm saying all of this.
> 
> One more thing before you read, funny story, the last part of this chapter is based on me. Me and my sister were playing around, and she locked me in the closet and left me there for like an hour, during which I had a complete mental breakdown and the idea came to me lol. Good times.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, updates might be slow so don't hold your breath, and please please PLEASE comment. no matter who you are. I'm a Libra and if you know anything about us we NEED constant validation and I do not get enough I feel terrible please comment please and thank you.

MJ wasn't usually one for sentiment. She was always the stoic one, giving away nothing but glare, cold words, and maybe a smirk for the people close to her. There weren't many, basically the list consisted of Peter, Ned, and Gwen. Like she said, not many. Even though she'd rather kill herself than admit it aloud, they were very important to her. She cared a great deal, she just wasn't used to showing it. 

But that was one (of the many) great things about them: she didn't need to show it. They all just… somehow knew. Gwen with her knowing smiles and spontaneous hugs, Ned’s rambling, the way he was always trying to fit her into a conversation, no matter how stupid she thought the topic was, and Peter. Even before she had realized he was Spider-Man, there was something comforting about his beaming smiles, nerdy babbling, childlike energy, and he was always accepting. He and Ned had accepted her into their friend group pretty quickly, and when they finally convinced him to ask out the cute girl from biology, Gwen was added as well. 

He was always careful about how they felt. If he saw that one of them was in a mood, he was always there with a quick joke, or to make of a fool of himself for their sake. He always knew when one of them was having a bad day. 

What he didn't know, though, was that they always knew when he was having a bad day. Those were the days when the bags under his eyes were a little heavier than usual, a little darker. He was withdrawn, quiet, and the look in his eye was haunted. The three of his friends would try their best to return the favors he had done for them, to try to make him smile, but they would only be met with lost stares, hollow smiles, fake laughs. 

He was always trying to be the strong one, and he was. 

But at what cost?

When the group received the news of the fire, and what happened to May, they were terrified. May was one of the kindest, wisest, most comforting people they had even met. She wasn't supposed to go like that. 

She wasn't supposed to go at all. 

She meant so much to them all, she was like a second mom. Whenever they came over, she'd always make sure they never left with an empty stomach, she'd help them whenever they got stuck on a homework problem (or at least try to), she even liked scolding them when a bad choice was made. MJ still remembered the time when she had chewed Ned out for trying that beer on a dare at a party. That was something he'd remember for the rest of his life. 

The point is, she was important. To all of them. Most of all Peter. 

She was the only person he had left in his family. He loved her with everything he had. You could walk all over him, beat him, insult him, and he'd take it. ("Better me than someone who can't," He had said as he nursed a black eye once) He wouldn't ever fight back. 

But say one word about his aunt…

That was a side of Peter no one ever wanted to see ever again. Even Flash had been too horrified to bully him for almost an entire month. 

So he was protective of her. They all feared what it would do to him if… if something happened to her. 

And something happened to her. 

And Peter was nowhere to be found. For a while at least. They got the call, they went, made friends, and there they were, sitting in a hospital room with an unconscious vigilante, two sleeping teenagers, and a passed out genius billionaire playboy philanthropist on the ground by the door. 

MJ stretched as she woke, arms high above her head, mouth open in a yawn. She blinked rapidly, chasing the sleep from her eyes, and looked around. Through the window, rays of sunlight filtered through, illuminating the room in an early morning glow. Her friends were sound asleep, Ned sitting in the chair with his head resting on his chest, arms hanging limply from the armrests. All in all an uncomfortable position. Gwen was half lying on the bed by Peter, half sitting in the chair. One arm was under her head, the other hand was holding Peter limp one. 

She pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. 7:46, it blinked back at her. She put it back and pushed herself out of the plastic chair. She needed to go to the bathroom, but the door was blocked as Stark had unceremoniously passed out sitting up against it, then he slid down at some point last night so he was lying on his side, curled up with his back pressed up against the door. He's gonna be feeling that when he wakes up. 

The debate in her head of whether she should wake him or not lasted about half a second, as she decided that her bodily needs wouldn't be compromised by this man's sleep placement. 

She took a grand total of two steps forward before she froze in her tracks. Slowly, she turned her head to look at the bed where Peter was sleeping. She stared at him for a long moment, wondering whether she was just hearing things, and was about to turn back around when she saw his brow twitch. Her eyes widened and she quietly walked up to the bedside. 

Another twitch, and his breath hitched in his throat. 

She looked down around Gwen and softly shook her arm, waking her. 

"I think he's waking up," She whispered, and Gwen's eyes shot open. She jumped up from her chair, making it clatter against the wall loudly. In her peripheral vision, she saw Stark violently flinch and jump up from where he was lying, his eyes wide and a hand over his chest. A few seconds later Ned awoke with an unattractive snort, eyes glassy with sleep. 

Stark clumsily got to his feet and rushed to the bed, and Ned blinked slowly, rising carefully and standing behind Gwen, looking over her shoulder. 

At this point Peter was whimpering, legs jerkily kicking under the covers, hands in fists, head thrashing from side to side. 

"J, vitals." Stark ordered, and a holographic screen appeared before them, showing Peter's elevated heart rate. The loud beeping noise filled the room and JARVIS notified them that Dr. Banner was on his way. 

Gwen looked on as the boy curled in on himself, and she felt herself tearing up. 

"Peter… Peter, please wake up," She said, taking his hand firmly in hers and squeezing. MJ and Ned stepped back as Stark and Gwen crowded over him. 

Stark shook his shoulder gently. "C'mon, kid, you can do it. Open those doe eyes of yours, let's see 'em, c'mon, Parker."

The two stared on as Peter’s movements stilled, and his eyes pried open painfully slow. 

Everyone in the room jumped as the door slammed open, revealing Banner in a long-sleeve grey shirt and sweatpants.

"Move," he ordered without preamble, and took Stark's arm and shoved him back. The man stumbled a few steps, but just moved to the foot of the bed. Gwen watched as the doctor's fingers glided over the holographic screen, then to her boyfriend, who was staring at the ceiling, eyes blank and unseeing. 

She looked up and Stark's eyes locked with hers for a couple of moments before he moved to take her wrist. 

"Let's give the doc here some space to work, huh? We'll only be in the way." 

She looked back at Peter, but didn't resist as he shooed the three kids out of the room, closing the door behind himself. 

They stood in silence for a moment, everyone avoiding each other's gaze before Stark huffed quietly and scratched the back of his neck. 

"I uh," He started, clearing his throat. "I gotta… work. Y'know, I have- yeah ok." He turned and rushed to the elevator, tripping over his feet a bit before disappearing behind the elevator doors. 

A minute passed in tense silence, but Gwen couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst into tears, hiding her face in her hands, shoulders shaking violently with the force of her sobs. 

Ned wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face into the crook of his neck, MJ looked away, biting her lip. 

"He's gonna be OK, Gwen. He always ends up ok." Ned was telling her, trying his best to provide comfort when he himself was close to tears. 

MJ felt her heart squeeze in her chest and she bit the inside of her cheek. There was a chance that what Ned was saying, that Peter always ended up on top, would turn out to be false this time. 

This wasn't something you could just bounce back from. Nothing would be the same. 

Peter wouldn't be the same. 

MJ sniffled silently and took her phone out of her phone pocket, checking the time. 

"I should be getting home." She told the two hugging teens, and Gwen separated herself from Ned to look up at her. 

Before she knew it, MJ was enveloped in a tight hug, and she tensed before melting into it. Ned joined a second later, wrapping himself around the both of them. 

They pulled away after second, and MJ gave a hesitant smile before following Stark's lead into the elevator. 

.o0O0o.

Tony was not ok. 

He realized this now as the doors of the workshop slid closed behind him with a soft ‘swish’ and found that he was frozen in place. His feet wouldn't cooperate, he was stuck standing there, almost in the middle of the room, breath too controlled to be normal.

The surge of emotions pulling at his heartstrings was…. Uncomfortable, and he’d blame it on the alcohol which was probably (not) still in his system.

Speaking of alcohol….

“JARVIS,” He called, voice just above a whisper.

“Sir?” The AI answered, his tone worried and gentle.

“I- where's the, uh, did we get rid of… all… the alcohol in here…?”

The silence that followed his question made him cringe. He could nearly feel the disappointment weighing down on him. 

When JARVIS did answer, it was with a stern, pointed "Sir."

"J, please. I- I need it."

"Actually, I find that to be quite false, Sir." Tony bit the inside of his cheek at the stubbornness of his AI, but before he could say anything, JARVIS continued. "You strictly ordered me to lock away any alcoholic beverages that were not thrown away months ago, I've only followed through with your wishes, as always."

Tony bit back a growl. "You always 'follow through with my wishes' or whatever bullshit, well now I 'wish' for y-"

"I'm afraid it isn't possible." He was interrupted, and now, the voice just sounded angry. 

"What?" He spat, then walked to his desk to grab a screwdriver, and began to look through all of his boxes, drawers, even vents, his motions a little more violent than necessary. 

He opened a drawer jerkily, almost panicking at this point, and reached inside blindly. He pulled back his hand immediately with at yelp as pain shot up his arm. He looked at his now shaking hand and saw a long, nasty looking gash down his palm. There must've been broken glass in there for some goddamn stupid-ass reason. 

He stumbled back a few steps, almost tripping over Dum-E, who had been following him this entire time. 

"Sir! Sir, you need to calm down. Why don't you take a break, go to the communal areas to watch a movie or-"

"Where the fuck is it, you fucking bastard?!"

Dum-E poked him in the side annoyingly for the long moments it took for JARVIS to respond. 

"In the broom closet, sir." He answered hesitantly, voice suspiciously hollow. 

Tony took no notice though as he rushed to the broom closet at the far end of the workshop, stumbling a few times. 

He had no clue why JARVIS was fighting him so hard on this, couldn't he see how much Tony needed it? To feel the burn down his throat, the numbness that followed. He just knew that he NEEDED it, and he needed it at that very moment. 

 

His violently shaking hands fumbled on the doorknob for a terrorizing second before he got a hold of it and slammed the door open. He walked halfway through the doorway, looking for any sign of the beverages. His breaths came fast and erratic, his heart beating at an unhealthy rapid pace. 

Something heavy shoved into his back, and he stumbled forward, falling to his hands and knees inside the closet. The door slammed shut, blocking out most of the light, and he whipped around, eyes wide. He crawled to the door and shoved at it, still on his knees. 

"J-JARVIS? JARVIS open the door, open the goddamn-" His hands shot up to cover his mouth as an unexpected sob threatened to escape, and he twisted so his back was leaning on the door. He tried to physically contain the surge of emotion he felt, but eventually, they broke through. He cried out and moved his hands to pull at his hair as tears began to flow freely down his cheeks. 

Dum-E beeped sadly just outside the door, his shadow blocking some of the light peeking under the door.

"I'm truly sorry, Sir." JARVIS said, regret clear in his voice. He tried to soothe his creator, but he knew what he had done was necessary. “It's true that I'm to comply with your orders, but my primary function is to keep you safe. Whether it be from an outer threat… or from yourself. I cannot allow you to fall into bad habits, again, Master Tony,” Tony sobbed harder, shoulders shaking violently against the door. “I simply will not allow you to destroy yourself again.”

Tony gasped for breath, his chest painfully tight with emotion. The tears streamed down his face and he pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes hard, as if to stem the flow. “Oh my god JARVIS I'm so sorry I'm sorry oh god-” He cried between sobs, and JARVIS replied with soothing words of comfort. 

They stayed like that for the rest of the day, Tony on the floor of the broom closet, crying until the exhaustion pulled him unconscious, Dum-E chirping, still blocking the door, and JARVIS whispering sweet nothings at his creator, the one he was built to love and to serve, to protect. 

JARVIS would protect this man with everything he had, up to his last dying breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENTS PLEASE, WHOEVER YOU ARE, IT DOESNT MATTER YOU CAN JUST SAY HI OR WRITE ME AN ESSAY I DONT CARE AS LONG AS I HEAR FROM Y'ALL!!!


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